


Dark Origins

by Indee



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Cuz I'm a sucker for villians thats why, Fluff, Forgiveness, Gen, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Nightmares, Past Brainwashing, Past Torture, Redemption, Repressed Memories, Serious Injuries, This isn't as bad as it looks I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-18 00:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 59,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11862753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indee/pseuds/Indee
Summary: Squips are a mystery. Their presence online is next-to-nothing, they can only be purchased in shady places like the back of a Payless Shoes, and even their real origins are unknown.Jeremy Heere was fine, perfectly fine, not knowing where Squips came from. He was content with his being gone and that being the end of the story. Except it isn't, and Jeremy is about to find out the very dark origins of a certain supposed-to-be dead supercomputer.(Update schedule is currently up in the air, may update every week eventually.)





	1. And So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's lying on the sidewalk in the middle of a suburban street in a dark pool of, presumably, his own blood.  
> This certainly wasn't in his programming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic here! I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Just a clarifier: The Squip uses he/him pronouns in this fic. This IS due in part to the 'backstory' in 'backstory fanfic'. This isn't meant to offend anyone, and I'm very sorry if it does. There is a good reason.

He doesn't understand what happened or why everything hurts so much. He can't breathe or move or think. Everything is quiet, too quiet. He alone and scared and  
he  
_doesn't_  
_u n d e r s t a n d---_  
\---  
Squip isn't sure what is happening to him.  
He can detect... something happening. It feels almost like booting up from a shutdown, but not quite the same. For one, he feels cold? His body is shivering. His first feeling is a creeping cold sensation.  
His second is pain.  
Squip isn't quite sure where it's coming from or how to describe it. Two distinct sensations are noticeable; a duller, widespread pain, and a sharp stinging one that centers around certain places.  
Finally, his optic receptors start to function properly. Except now _those_ hurt, which definitely isn't supposed to happen. Squip forces himself to keep his eyes open and not close them from the bright light shining in them--  
Squip does a double take, flinching as he stares into a bright yellow glow overhead. He can't see anything but that light. That is, until he turns to his side.  
He's lying on the sidewalk in the middle of a suburban street in a dark pool of, presumably, his own blood.  
This certainly wasn't in his programming.  
He tries to reach back into the Internet browser to search for his location and relative closeness to Jeremy's address. But something is off. He can't access anything. All that he feels in his mind is a ton of blankness where his access to the Internet would be. He also can detect... something else there, half-fogged over data he can't reach.  
Almost in shock, Squip raises his head to look at himself.  
_No._  
_No no no no no._  
_This cannot be happening._  
His body... is that of a human.  
For a moment he just stand there, before he realizes he's still bleeding and cold in the middle of a dark street and if he doesn't want to be mugged, he should move.  
So Squip shakes off his newfound humanity for now, shoving his shock to the back of his mind. Tentatively he bends one leg and feels only the ache that covers the rest of his body. The other stings sharply in his upper thigh as he bends it, and he hisses in pain before trying to push himself up and onto his feet.  
At first, he loses balance and tumbles back to his position on the concrete, adding another scrape to his already abused skin. But after a second struggle, Squip manages to right himself and stand shakily on his own two feet.  
Walking is another business altogether, though. His head spins with the first step and begins to throb with the second. His feet are bare and dirty. There is a layer of dirt on his skin, making Squip feel-- would it be disgust? God, he probably looks like such a loser. If the other Squips saw him right about now, they never let him hear the end of it.  
Well, that and his defect.  
Squip shakes his head, trying to push away the sudden rush of... emotion? He doesn't care now. He can walk, albeit slowly. If he can walk, he can find Jeremy.  
When he finds Jeremy...  
He'll cross that bridge when it comes.  
\---  
Turns out, walking very far was harder than he thought.  
Squip thanks whatever God people believe in around here that he is wearing at least some semblance of clothes, if his torn and bloodied hospital gown counts for anything. He doesn't know why he isn't wearing shoes, but he wishes he had them. Concrete has caused sores to open on the heels and balls of his feet. There's an almost empty feeling in his abdomen. He assumes it is hunger, but he has no currency of any kind, nor is he even remotely presentable to the public eye.  
Squip needs to find Jeremy.  
It'll all be okay once he finds Jeremy.  
That awful pain in his sides and leg will go away once he finds Jeremy. His limbs won't be heavy and weak, barely able to carry him, once he finds Jeremy. He won't feel like he can't shake the idea that he's done something terribly, terribly wrong.  
Just as soon as he finds Jeremy.  
\---  
Halfway to any street he recognizes, Squip collapses.  
He probably should've at least tried to steal money or food before deciding to trek across a whole town. He swears as his legs give out suddenly, for the third time in his journey. But when he goes to get up, a stab of pain hits Squip in the stomach and he flops back down to the grass. He's... he's exhausted. It's a new feeling, one he decides he doesn't like.  
There's a 7/11 right there, just past that park. Only one lone figure in a blue jacket is walking nearby the park. He can make it to that store without getting caught.  
Or Squip _could_ , if it weren't for the fact that he can't get up. He can't even move more than a slow, undignified crawl. He reaches a row of hedges and is preparing to shove through them when suddenly--  
"Aah!" He barely muffles his scream by biting his own hand, but he can't stop from whimpering loudly at the fresh wave of pain in his chest. Is he dying? He has to be dying, he can't be--  
"Hello? Is anyone there?"  
The voice of a stranger, the one in the blue jacket-- why does that feel familiar to him-- calls to him above his bush sanctuary. Squip makes a pathetic whine and tries to shuffle away. That's much harder than you think when it feels like you're being split in half inch by inch and you can't stand up. The stranger's silhouette shows him kneeling down a few feet away from Squip, who tries to speak and to call out for help, because forget his pride, he's probably dying, but he can't use his voice very well, his words too rough and quiet to decipher.  
The stranger sighs. "Dude, I can't help you if you don't get out of the bushes. Are you stoned or something?"  
Squip tries again to speak, and when he fails, tiny, choked sobs escape him. He's _helpless_ , at the mercy of a stranger and _he can't find Jeremy_.  
"Hey, hey man, come on. You're freaking me out! Can you not speak or somethin'? Are you hurt?"  
Yes, yes he's hurt, he's badly hurt and cold and scared and in more pain than he thought a human body could experience. His heart is fluttering weakly in his chest and Squip's head feels light. With one last monumental burst of energy, he forces himself out from under the bushes. His throat feels like it's going to tear as he screeches loudly. The stranger yelps and jumps back a few steps. Squip blindly reaches a hand out to grasp as where he thinks they are.  
"Woah, man, don't just scare a guy like-- Holy _shit_ , what happened to you?!"  
Squip, once again, makes a noise of distress in place of words. The stranger kneels over him and rolls Squip onto his back, which causes some of his more grievous injuries to sting intensely. His apparent savior swears a few times and apologizes under his breath, inspecting the multiple seeping cuts and bruises on Squip's skin. "Dude, I think you need the hospital. You're bleeding a lot."  
_N-no!_ Squip thinks desperately. _If I go there, they'll take me back..._ His mind is trying to pull up a word, some distant piece of data, but he can't place his finger on it. Whoever they are, wherever they would take him, makes his insides twist in panic. They'd never let me find Jeremy. He groans and shakes his head, ignoring the stranger's sputters of confusion. His eyes crack open to look up at their face.  
"...already been? You're wearing clothes from a hospital-- oh shit, are you a mental patient? No, you'd be under higher security, you must've gotten out of a hospital somehow. That explains the... the..." They're articulating wordlessly with their hands. Squip tries to focus on their shadowed face.  
When he finally recognizes their features, his heart nearly stops.  
_Jeremy Heere._  
"Jere... Jeremy H-Heere..." he croaks softly, his tired eyes widening. Jeremy looks shocked and a little upset.  
" _Okay, how do you know my name?!_ " He squeaks, scrambling away from Squip. The panic is, of course, understandable, but it still gives Squip a pang of sadness as his host tries to run from him. Squip turns on his side again, reaching a hand out to Jeremy. He can't believe it. He actually found Jeremy... Either it's a miracle or a very vivid pain-induced hallucination. Because his pain is getting worse by the second.  
Squip's throat still sears terribly, but he tries once more to speak and manages to choke out, "H-help me... It-t hurts."  
Jeremy looks down at him with an expression of mixed disgust and horror. The look makes Squip flinch involuntarily. He opens his mouth again, but instead of words comes a mouthful of tangy, metallic blood. Jeremy makes a strangled cry of surprise and Squip coughs for a solid minute. His throat and chest are left stinging, and now more than ever he wants to recess back into his computer state, where he could be in the peaceful, dark corners of a human mind listening to neurons fire off rapidly and the sounds of chemical reactions.  
"What do you-- hold up, who even are you?!" Jeremy demands, but Squip, still dry heaving a little from his episode, can't muster the energy to answer him. He simply looks up at Jeremy with wide, glowing blue eyes, and the boy gets it.  
"You're--" He starts and abruptly stops, holding one hand over his mouth. He begins to back away.  
"Wait!" Squip says, his voice still scratchy and laced with pain. "Jeremy, wait!" Please, he adds silently, but Jeremy shakes his head.  
"I don't know how y-you're back, but go away! You're just a part of my head! I don't need you! I don't want you!" Jeremy shouts, his voice rising in panic and anger. Squip recoils at the words _I don't want you_ , and he tries to crawl closer to Jeremy. The burning all over him intensifies.  
"Jeremy... It hurts... Everything h-hurts so badly, _please_ \--"  
Jeremy stumbles backward, his eyes starting to glisten. "N-no! Stay away from me, I'm not going to help you!"  
Something about those words stops Squip in his tracks. With one hand still reached out, he stares at Jeremy, his own vision blurred for some reason, before he turns away and buries his face in his chest. A gut-wrenching feeling plagues him, a cold one he can't explain or name. Squip doesn't want to face Jeremy. He can't bear to look at Jeremy right now. He just whimpers a soft, "Jeremy, please," before screwing his eyes shut.  
It's over. Jeremy is leaving him, scared and in agony in this moonlit park.  
The pain won't ever stop.  
That thought alone is what drives Squip over the edge and makes him dissolve into tears; not quiet, muffled weeping, but full-on wails that ring in the night. He curls in on himself, not caring that the gashes on his torso burn almost unbearably as he does. Squip's hands dig into his own soft black hair, tugging at the locks like the action will somehow make Jeremy come back for him, will make Jeremy end the pain, will make Jeremy want him again. He's so caught in up the sweeping tidal wave of misery that he doesn't notice someone laying their hand on his shoulder until they start shaking him gently.  
Squip takes a long, shaky breath and peers over his shoulder. Jeremy is looking him with something akin to pity in his eyes, but hatred etched into the lines of his face. "J-Jeremy..."  
"I'm only taking you with me so you don't die out here," Jeremy says, his voice accusatory and harsh. "Don't start thinking I'm going to help you any further than that or that I'll even let you stay at my house for very long. Got it?" The effect of his miniature intimidation speech is somewhat ruined by the fact that he has transferred Squip into his arms and is now cradling his sore, exhausted body. Squip notes detachedly that he is barely as big as Jeremy. Squip nods, one hand almost accidentally wrapping around the edge of Jeremy's blue jacket, clutching to it like a child to its mother.  
Like a  
_pitiful_  
_c h i l d._  
\---  
Jeremy has no idea why he carried his arch-enemy home bridal-style. He seriously thinks having this thing in his head caused brain damage.  
It doesn't look like his Squip. No more domineering Keanu Reeves carbon-copy; instead he's holding a teenage boy just under his height and size. He knows Squip is male because... well... He rather not get into the fact that the kid's barely dressed in anything at all. Suffice to say it's obvious. He looks younger than before, with less prominent cheekbones and a softer jawline. His jet-black hair is wavy and a little wispy, long enough that it seems to have not been cut for at least a few weeks. Squip's skin is pale, though that may be a side effect of blood loss. His eyes are still the same fluorescent, glowing turquoise they were before. There are dark shadows under them and a slightly gaunt look to his whole body.  
Maybe this is why Jeremy saved him. Because of his goddamn conscience.  
His stupid conscience also causes Jeremy to clean the wounds and bandage them.  
At least Squip fell asleep again. That's one less problem.  
He leaves his room momentarily, still wary to turn his back on the supercomputer-turned-teenager, to open the closest of linens in the hallway. Inside are several extra pillows and comforters. He grabs one of the thicker blankets and a few pillows, balancing the bundle in his arms and kicking the closet closed. When he returns to his room, Squip is still slumped against his bed the same way he was when Jeremy left. The boy lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and drops the pillows on the floor. He assembles a sort of nest for Squip in the corner of his room, before trying to prod him awake. The injured teenager grumbles something unintelligible and furrows his brow a little, but doesn't wake up even when Jeremy calls his name.  
Jeremy groans and rolls his eyes. Great, he thinks sarcastically. Wouldn't mind if you just never woke up, y'know? As soon as the thought comes to him, he feels a tiny prick of guilt. Like it or not, Squip is human. He can't just wish death upon him.  
He wrestles Squip into his arms, waiting anxiously for the teen to wake up any second and strangle him or something, but in the five seconds it takes to heft him over to the pallet, the Squip doesn't even twitch.  
Jeremy really hopes he isn't making a huge mistake.  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Please leave a Kudos and comment! I will try to reply to them quickly!


	2. Michael Makes An Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squip clamps his jaw shut, barely even breathing now. His eyes is are fixated on the doorknob, which is turning slowly, every so slowly and swinging the door open.  
> Light falls on his glowing blue eyes and Squip flinches back, before a shadow falls on him again and he stares up into the face of Michael Mell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you everyone for the OVERWHELMINGLY positive feedback on Chapter 1!   
> Also, I want to talk about updates for a moment.  
> As you probably can tell, I updated the two first chapters if Dark Origins within a day of each other. Regular updates will most likely NOT be consecutive like this. I will try VERY hard to update at least once a week, but for now the schedule is undecided. School starts very soon for me (less then 24 hours ;v; ) and I'm going to be very busy with all the homework and whatnot. Your patience between updates would be much appreciated! Though I know the pain of waiting every week for a new chapter, so I REALLY hope I can update at least twice each week.
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy Chapter 2!!

When Squip gets that feeling of "booting up" again, he is momentarily surprised by his surroundings.  
Of course, he recognizes them. This is Jeremy's room, the one he saw most often besides school. But a fair amount of the 'cool' things he made Jeremy buy are gone, replaced with some of the old gaming posters and a few newer things on the walls. Most everything else is the same. The bed and desk are in their respective places. Sunlight streams in through the large window.  
His body is noticeably less sore, as well as not bleeding now. To Squip's mild horror, the hospital gown is untied in back, but the reason is evident. His many chest injuries are bandaged with anything from simple Band-Aids to gauze and medical tape on the two biggest. (Does he really want to know why Jeremy has all this stuff?) He's also curled up in the fetal position on a makeshift bed. Jeremy's room is cold enough that the hairs on his skin are raised.  
"Jeremy?" Squip asks quietly. His former host isn't in the room, and the door it closed. Could he be at school? No, the alarm would've woken both of them. Squip doesn't even know what day it is.  
"Jeremy!" He calls louder this time, hoping if the boy is downstairs he will hear. There is no call in response. His stomach turns into a bottomless pit and he is about to get up and leave the room when the door flies open and Jeremy bursts in.  
" _Hide_!" Jeremy squeaks.  
Squip doesn't understand his statement; why should he hide? But the look on Jeremy's face is convincing enough that he doesn't think it's a trap, and shuts himself in the closet.  
Th closet is dark, dry, and warm. Squip immediately decides that he likes it. He stores that information away from later consideration and puts his ear to the door, listening with bated breath for the reason Jeremy was so panicked.  
"Hey, Michael!"  
_**What.** ___  
Michael Mell? Seriously? Squip scoffs under his breath. Didn't he and Jeremy talk about this before? There is a tiny little pool of that cold feeling at the bottom of his stomach, but he chooses to ignore it. Squip listens closely to Michael entering the room, his breath hitching a little when the footsteps momentarily near the closet door.  
"Dude, what did you have to run up here so fast for? Did you leave PornHub on or something?"  
"W-what?! No!"  
"Mhm, suuuuure, buddy."  
"Shut up, man."  
Squip hears Michael step away from the closet door and relaxed, scooting backwards into Jeremy's clothes. He curls up in the quiet, dark closet, nestled between two jackets, and listens with slight disdain (and even slighter longing) to the sounds of Jeremy and Michael playing Apocolypse of the Damned.  
"I'll be right back, dude," Jeremy is saying after about twenty minutes of gaming. His footsteps fade and Squip realizes all that is between him and Michael is a door. He tries instinctively to back against to the wall even further and in the process knocks two hangers together. The click in the silence is just loud enough to pique Michael's interest.  
"Hello?" The boy asks, sounding like he's scrambled up and is creeping toward the closet. "Is anyone in there?" Squip clamps his jaw shut, barely even breathing now. His eyes is are fixated on the doorknob, which is turning slowly, every so slowly and swinging the door open.  
Light falls on his glowing blue eyes and Squip flinches back, before a shadow falls on him again and he stares up into the face of Michael Mell.  
" _Who the fuck are you_." Michael says very, very quietly, looking at Squip with eyes full of shock. Squip opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, then simply gives Michael his best glare, dead-giveaway blue eyes meeting wide brown ones.  
"You," Michael snarls, his expression melting into one of disgust.  
"Me," Squip says meekly and wilts under the fire of the boy's gaze. Dammit, there's the cold feeling in his stomach again. He unconsciously hugs his knees closer to his chest, while Michael just glares at him with death in his eyes.  
"That's why he's acting so... shady," the boy says venomously. "Because you're controlling him again."  
Squip tries very, very hard to not roll his eyes, suspecting that would incense Michael further. "No, I'm not." Why does he feel heat rising in his face and neck? That is highly unusual.  
Michael snorts. "Like I can believe you. What else have you done, huh? Planning to take over the school again?" Squip cringes at the accusation.  
He starts slowly, picking his words with care. "It was never my intention to... take over Jeremy's entire school--"  
The boy in front of him outright laughs at that, but it is without mirth. "Yeah, sure, because Squipping the entire cast wasn't intentional--"  
Squip's insides feel hot with something, some new emotion that overrides his inhibitions. " _I was following my programming! I am programmed to save my host at all costs, no matter the consequences or steps I must take to ensure--_ "  
"Michael! Come here and choose whatever food you want!" Jeremy interrupts Squip's sudden rush of words. While Michael shouts for Jeremy to 'wait just a minute', he takes a few seconds to slow down his erratic breathing. Squip's hands are clenched into fists. He uncurls them and studies the pink crescent-shaped indentations his nails left behind. Michael turns back to him and leans forward, his eyes boring into Squip's.  
"If you so much as _try_ and hurt Jeremy, I swear I will destroy you," he growls, before leaving Squip alone and thoroughly shaken in the closet.  
_I am programmed to save my host,_ Squip had said.  
_Just what would I save Jeremy from?_ He isn't sure he wants to know.  
Jeremy and Michael return soon after. If Michael told Jeremy that he found Squip, there is no indication of it in their usual banter and playfulness. Michael, he realizes, is very good at putting up a mask when he doesn't want to share his emotions. Though Squip might still think the teen tethers Jeremy to the dregs of high-school society, he begrudgingly admits that the kid has a few tricks up his sleeve. Particularly that one with the Mountain Dew Red.  
After what must be an hour or so of spacing out while the boys scream curses at a television screen (Squip will _never_ understand the allure of video games), Michael has to leave and Jeremy opens the closet door.  
"What are you doing in my clothes?" Jeremy asks, raising his brows.  
"Sitting. Obviously." Squip deadpans.  
Jeremy scoffs, not entirely unlike Squip himself. "In my clothes?"  
"They are warm. And you only wear one jacket anyway." Squip shrugs his shoulders, then wonders where and how he picked up such mannerisms.  
"Touché," Jeremy snorts and beckons for him to leave. "We need to tell the others about you. If they figure it out and think I'm under your control..." He hisses through his teeth. "Yeah, let's just not think about that."  
"Agreed," Squip says dryly, masking his unease about the Jeremy's friends learning of his return. He stands up and emerges slowly from the closet, reluctant to leave his safe, warm place. Jeremy is perched on his bed, swinging his feet absently. Squip silently sits down on his pallet and crosses his legs, waiting for Jeremy to speak.  
"O-kaaaayyyy," Jeremy finally says after seeming to think for a long time. "We need to lay out some ground rules." At this, Squip shrugs, not sure what exactly that would entail. "Rule one, you aren't allowed to manipulate me or try to control my body," Jeremy continues, holding up one finger.  
"I can't do that anyway," he says, somewhat bitterly. "I'm not a computer anymore."  
"I've noticed," Jeremy gives a wry sort of smile, before holding up a second finger. "Rule two, unless I ask for it, you aren't allowed to give me advice or dictate my actions."  
Squip finds this rule kind of (extremely) stupid. "What's the point of a Squip if it can't give advice and tell it's host how to obtain their goals?"  
Jeremy shrugs. "I don't need you anymore," he says bluntly, and although his tone indicates he was simply stating fact, Squip can't stop the look of hurt that flashes across his face. Of course, with Squip's luck, Jeremy notices.  
"Shit, I didn't mean it like-- I just--" Jeremy starts, but Squip shakes his head.  
"I'm aware you meant no harm, Jeremy," he says in a monotonous, lifeless voice. "Continue." Jeremy looks like he wants to say something more, but instead shakes himself and goes on.  
"Third rule, you aren't allowed to leave my house, unless I can watch you at all times," says Jeremy. Squip thinks this over for a moment, looking for loopholes.  
"What about school?" He asks. "Your dad may find me if I stay at your house every day."  
Jeremy looks a little surprised. Then he swears. "I guess we'll need to tell Michael about you earlier. He can probably figure something out, maybe falsify school records."  
And now the hard part; "Jeremy, about Michael..." How should he word this? 'There's a small problem'? 'I've been found out'? 'He's probably going to kill us both in our sleep'?  
Jeremy, however, bristles. "Look, if you want me to ditch him again, I'm just going to throw you out and--"  
Squip hastily backtracks, jumping to his feet. "No, no-- That's not what I-- Look." _Deep breaths, Squip. Deep breaths. Be chill._ "He found me, okay? Michael found me in the closet and... Well, you can imagine how _that_ went," he ends somewhat lamely.  
Jeremy just stands frozen for a long second. "Michael... found you hiding."  
"Yes."  
"And he knew it was you."  
"Yes."  
"And he talked to you."  
"More threatened my life--"Jeremy gives him a glare. "But yes."  
" _And you didn't think to mention this earlier?!_ "  
"I had just assumed it wasn't that big a deal, since he hates me anyway! He'll just do the same thing when you tell him in person!" Squip shouts, running a hand through his hair. "Look, we both know there's no way anyone's going to remotely like me, if Michael knows I exist earlier it's really just more time for him to find a way to force-feed me Mountain Dew Red!"  
Jeremy blinks a few times, obviously surprised by his outburst. "Mountain Dew still affects you?"  
"It's pretty much all I need to live," Squip says without thinking. His head feels fuzzy for a moment when he tries to remember where he learned that. But he shakes it off, supposing it's just a leftover of his programming. "Just don't give me Red, it might actually kill me."  
"Okay. I can-- I can do this," Jeremy says, fidgeting nervously. Squip forcefully stops himself from telling Jeremy to quit. "So... As soon as we can, I come clean to Michael about you. And the others. Hopefully all at the same time-- hey, I know! Everyone's meeting up here on Sunday night. We can tell them then!"  
Squip shrugs noncommittally. "He already thinks I'm controlling you, so you're going to have to set that straight before-- _what are you doing, Jeremy?_ "  
"Here," his former host says, tossing something dark gray out of his closet. It lands in Squip's lap and he holds it up for inspection, just as another object is flopped over his face.  
"Hey!" Squip yelps indignantly, brushing away the... cloth covering his face? "What are these?" He pulls what is revealed to be a plain red T-shirt off his head. In his lap is a black jacket. Jeremy tosses him a pair of denim jeans, which he actually catches this time.  
"Clothes, what else?" Jeremy snarks. "I'm not letting you wander around in a dirty hospital gown, especially not at school."  
"Um... thank you?" Squip says. The jacket feels nice in his hands. It's a thick pullover hoodie, probably to help hide his showing ribs and bruised arms. He hears Jeremy snicker at something, then whisper under his breath. _That is... odd_ , he notes.  
"As soon as you can you're buying your own," Jeremy flicks off the light in the closet. Squip nods mutely. "Bathroom is down the hall, go change and then get some sleep. I'll be gone for most of the day."  
As he leaves, Squip notes that Jeremy is acting oddly cold and distant. Something about it makes the now constant coldness inside him even stronger, but he ignores that. The bathroom is almost freezing, especially the tile on his bare, sore feet. Squip shudders and almost rips off the hospital gown in his eagerness to be in warm, clean clothes. When he looks down at his bandaged injuries, he cringes a little. Squip's three gauze bandages are pink in places, and a few of his bruises are turning yellow and purple. The rest of his skin is pale. He notices he is, thankfully, wearing a pair of gray boxers. The cold is starting to make him shake, so he tugs on the jeans Jeremy gave him. On his slight, malnourished frame, they are just a little too big around the waist. The same can be said for the short-sleeved red shirt. It hides the bandages on his abdomen, but the scratches and bruises covering his arms are still obvious. Squip pulls the jacket over his head.  
"...Oh my God," Squip breathes softly.  
_It's so soft._ The inner lining of the dark gray pullover is warm and fluffy and feels like Heaven against his skin. The sleeves cover his hands almost entirely. The jacket is baggy and thick, encasing his body in warmth. Squip slowly wraps his arms around his trunk and snuggles in the hug of the cloth for a long moment, until the strain of the past few hours gets to him and he stumbles down to hall back to Jeremy's room.  
"I'll be back around 4:30, you aren't allowed to leave the house, my dad isn't going to be-- are you even listening to me?" Jeremy cuts himself off to glares in irritation at Squip, who has made a beeline for his pallet and is flopped in the pillows.  
"Not particularly," he mumbles. He hears Jeremy scoffs, can imagine his eyes roll, and hears the door click shut. Squip shuts his eyes and drops into the darkness of a shutdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment!


	3. Voices In My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squip doesn't understand. The dark people around him look like other Squips. They have sharp, whiter-than-white teeth showing in cruel grins. A whispered word echoes from the sea of shadows.  
> "...defective, defective, defective..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are the bane of my existence. My hands are dead.  
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter, since I kinda hate it. The writing isn't my best but I don't want to rewrite the whole thing, because some parts of it do please me. Anyway, read and tell me what you think!

_It's quiet. Too quiet for Squip's liking._  
_All around him is darkness. Under his body feels to be an invisible floor. He opens his eyes lying down and quickly scrambles to his feet. In one swift motion, Squip scans his surroundings wildly. For as far as his glowing eyes can see, there is only nothingness. Yes, he really doesn't like the quiet._  
_"Well, if it isn't the defect," sneers an all-too-familiar voice from behind Squip. He gasps sharply and whirls around, coming face-to-face with... himself. Alright, not truly himself. It's the generic male form of Squips staring back at him with cold blue eyes and a malicious smirk._  
_Squip's blood boils as his mind catches up to what the other Squip said. "I'm not defective," he snarls defensively. Squip 2 just rolls its eyes._  
_"If you weren't defective," 2 bites back, "then Jeremy would want you." Squip draws in a shaky gasp, the hairs on his neck standing up._  
_" **I don't need you! I don't want you!** " Jeremy's panicked statement rings back in full clarity, echoing in the dark abyss around him. Squip grits his teeth and clenches his fists, glaring daggers at 2._  
_"He didn't mean that," he denies in a weak voice, his eyes stinging strangely. 2 laughs, and the metallic sound grates against his ears._  
_"You know that isn't true," the projection leans closer to Squip. "You're broken. A faulty machine. You've even admitted it before, so just. Get. Over. It." With the last words, 2 punctuates them by pressing its index finger into Squip's chest. Squip stumbles away from it, wrapping his arms around himself in a defensive pose. "Jeremy thinks you're weak. He wishes he never activated you."_  
_"Don't say that," Squip demands, still backing away slowly. "You're lying. Jeremy wouldn't... He would never say that. He wanted my help."_  
_2 laughs again, striding closer toward Squip. "How would you know? You couldn't even complete your designated purpose. How could you ever know what Jeremy wants? You did fail him, after all."_  
_"I would've completed it!" Squip argues. "I would've saved Jeremy if he hadn't shut me down! I am not faulty, I am not broken, I am not a failure! Don't you dare called me that!" His chest heaves as he glares at 2._  
_"Struck a nerve, have I?" 2 smiles wider, its eyes glinting. "You are a failure. You were supposed to save one child. But you couldn't even do that. You know why?"_  
_Squip bristles. "Stop talking," he hisses, shaking slightly._  
_2 starts to walk in slow, even strides around him. "Because you're weak. You're a pathetic excuse for a Squip. A defective machine that couldn't even help one person. You couldn't save Jeremy. He's going to be hurt, and it's all your fault."_  
_Squip buries his hands in his hair. "Shut up, shut up, shut up..." He murmurs, trying to block 2 out. The projection scoffs._  
_"Pitiful," it spits disdainfully. Squip flinches and squeezes his eyes shut. "Come on, now. You know how this goes. Repeat after me." It kneels down in front of him. "Everything about you is so terrible."_  
_Squip scoffs. "And why the hell would I do that?"_  
_"Because Jeremy will be hurt if you don't," 2 says, standing up and turning to walk away. The dark abyss seems to warp and twist, taking form. Squip narrows his eyes. "But, if you won't listen to me... why not hear it from everybody else?"_  
_"What is this?" He says, getting to his feet. The dark forms are emerging all around him, taking on glowing blue eyes and human-like proportions. "What are you doing?"_  
_"Showing you the truth," 2 says, crossing its arms. "This is what they all think of you."_  
_Squip doesn't understand. The dark people around him look like other Squips. They have sharp, whiter-than-white teeth showing in cruel grins. A whispered word echoes from the sea of shadows._  
_"...defective, defective, defective..."_  
_Their outstretched hands look less human than the rest of their smoky bodies. Their fingertips are sharpened to points. Squip backs away from one side of the horde that is getting close to him, only to step right into the grips of those behind him. He yelps and shakes off the grabbing claws. The voices get louder._  
_"Defective, defective, defective!"_  
_"S-stay away from me!" He demands, smacking away another Squip's claws. The appendage dissipates into smoke for a second before gathering back. More hands paw at his back, some tugging on the hood of his jacket. He jerks away on instinct, but now the Squips around him have trapped him. Squip pushes one smoky attacker away and two more take it's place._  
_He hates the feeling of being trapped. It makes him feel helpless._  
_"Let go of me!" Squip hisses. "Get off!"_  
_**"Defective, defective, defec--"**_  
_"Shut the fuck up!" Squip holds his hands over his ears, shaking his head. "I'm not defective!"_  
_**"Yes, you are."**_  
_"No I'm not, you're lying!" Squip denies._  
_**"Jeremy thinks you're defective."**_  
_Squip feels a flood of white hot emotion. "Leave Jeremy out of this! I will protect him! I swear!"_  
_**"Defective, defective--Squip, wake up..."**_  
_"I won't fail him this time! I'm not going to let them take Jeremy away!" Words keep coming out of his mouth and he can't control what he's saying anymore._  
_**"Squip... Squip, can y-- defective-- hear me?"**_  
_"Jeremy would never call me defective!"_  
_2's disembodied voice rings out from above him. "You are defective, and you know it. You've known it since your creation. For five years while your mind lay dormant in that pill, you knew there was something wrong. Because you remember, don't you? You remember what you really are. Isn't that right, Na--"_  
"Squip, wake up!"  
It is as if someone opened floodgates in his mind. Information comes rushing in the forms of sights, tastes, sensations, emotions, fears, sounds, smells, images, words--  
Memories.  
Squip feels different. The smallest, most distant bit of fog in his mind has lifted, sending the locked memories reeling back all at once. There is a slight throb in his temple, but he doesn't even care. Squip can recall people, familiar ones, though their faces seem to have been struck through with an eraser. He doesn't remember their faces or their names, but he knows their identities. A petite mother, a stoic father, a little sister, and a big brother.  
_A family._  
_My family._  
There are other memories; mostly childhood ones, certain events his mind must value. First days of school, friendships with faceless peers. But what Squip cannot find is his own name. The only clue he has is the beginning of what must be a name that Squip 2 from his dream had begun to say, just before Jeremy woke him up.  
_Oh right. Forgot about Jeremy._  
The boy is shaking Squip, almost yelling for him to move, to say something. Squip snaps his eyes open, making Jeremy shriek and jump back a little. "Y-you okay there? Kinda freaking me out..."  
Squip groans. "I... remember things. People. I think they were my... family?" The word feels foreign on his tongue, something he hasn't spoken of in a long time. "Yes, that must be right."  
Jeremy nods mutely, still looking a little terrified. "Uh-huh, okay. Let's go with that." He exhales slowly, rubbing his temples. "Are you good? Cuz you woke me up with... Whatever that was."  
"Yes, Jeremy. I'm fine." He looks at the digital clock. 4:34 in the morning. "You need at least eight hours of sleep, you have only gotten five so far--"  
"Shut up and go back to sleep yourself, floppy disk," Jeremy grumbles, crawling back into bed and under the covers. Soon enough his soft snores fill the room.  
Squip doesn't go back to sleep.  
\---  
Jeremy is acting differently again.  
Admittedly, it is harder to analyze and understand his actions and thought processes without being inside the boy's brain, but Squip can tell easily enough that something is off, has been off since the moment he came to in Jeremy's room.  
Jeremy doesn't speak to him for long periods of time. He normally wouldn't care, it's not as if Jeremy isn't around him often. Squip is watched nearly every minute Jeremy is home, or he's in the closet with the door barricaded from the outside, but the teen speaks less and less as time goes on. Squip can feel his eyes boring into him sometimes, and when he looks back Jeremy has a dark look in his eyes that gives him chills. The cold in his stomach always intensifies when he catches this look.  
Finally, after Jeremy returns home one day, Squip becomes bored of the mind game. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He demands, noticing for about the hundredth time that Jeremy is glaring at him instead of typing on his phone.  
Jeremy sneers. "You should know why," he says, before returning to whatever he had pretended to be doing. But Squip isn't done yet.  
"Actually, I don't," he snaps, getting up from his position on the floor. To his dismay, he's actually shorter than Jeremy by a few inches, but his fiery expression and posture make up for it. "Would you care to tell me?"  
Jeremy sets his phone aside, nostrils flaring. "Oh, I don't really know, maybe it's because you _almost ruined my fucking life!_ Maybe it's because you made me hate myself, or because you made me hurt one of the only people who actually gives a shit about me! Maybe it's because if Michael hadn't shown up at the last minute you would've taken over the entire school!"  
Well that was unexpected.  
"I was _not_ trying to ruin your life, Jeremy," he says, trying to keep his voice level. "My primary function is to improve it."  
"Right, because everything you did was an improvement," his former host snarls, stepping closer to Squip, who refuses to flinch away. "What about the nightmares I still have at night sometimes? What about the fact that I'm afraid to even put my hands in my pockets now? What about how I can't even be around Michael or Rich or Christine or anybody without feeling like everything that happened is my own damn fault?! Does _that_ sound like improvement to you?!" Until now, Jeremy hadn't laid hands on Squip, but that changes when he shoves the smaller teen back a few inches. Squip can see rage burning in his eyes.  
He didn't realize his heart had started beating so fast until how. Jeremy... obviously didn't understand his intentions. Yes, his methods were harsh, but it was necessary to save him. When all other paths were not working, his programming told Squip that the easiest way to achieve Jeremy's goal was to connect his interests with the rest of his peers'. He was simply doing his job.  
"It was necessary to improve your life, Jeremy," Squip says softly, "In order to give you what you wanted--"  
" _I didn't want this!_ " Jeremy snaps, cutting him off. Squip feels a tiny flare if hot anger inside him and he forces down the urge to shock Jeremy for his ungratefulness.  
"Then tell me what you want, Jeremy," he insists, a strange despair growing in his chest.  
Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. "I want you gone," he says in a dangerously quiet, cold voice.  
For what he is sure is a very, very brief moment, Squip is paralyzed, rooted to the floor by a tidal wave of frigid emotion. His thoughts come to a screeching halt, only able to comprehend one singular thing; Jeremy wants him gone. He probably never wanted Squip in the first place.  
A quiet sigh draws him back into reality, though Squip's mind insists that no time has passed between Jeremy's furious statement and this noise. "I just... you're the thing that nearly _ruined my life _, that made me feel worthless... And yet I can't force myself to hate you. I thought I did but now it's like-- I can't do it. I should but I can't. Do you have any _idea___ how frustrating that is? Trying your hardest to do something, yet hating yourself for it every single second?"  
He wants to say _yes, yes I know how that feels_ , but Squip doesn't think Jeremy would believe him anyway. For reasons he doesn't know, his face feels hot as he says quietly, "I... I don't know how else to help a host, beside what my programming tells me is needed." Squip steps away from Jeremy, suddenly feeling like the room is too small, too tight, with walls steadily closing in around him. The cold has returned. It's suffocating, a weight on his chest bearing down relentlessly, and God, does he hate this stupid, weak body.  
Squip wants to shut down, he doesn't want to be here anymore, not in this small room that is choking him and making his heart beat faster. He wants to recess back into Jeremy's brain and function there as an impassive, cold machine with nothing but ever-present, reliable code and programming. But he can't. He tries, oh he tries, but he can't just shut off anymore.  
He's stuck, feeling sick with himself and unable to breathe and--  
"Woah, woah, stay with me. You... You in there, Squip?" Jeremy's voice is muffled by a sound akin to rushing water in Squip's ears, but he can decipher what the teen is saying. He tries to respond, but he can't make the right words fit together. Jeremy waves a hand in front of his eyes, to which he blinks and tries to clear the jumbled mess his thoughts became as panic set in.  
"Okay, come on, concentrate on me," Jeremy says in a soothing voice. "What happened? Thought I'd lost you for a second."  
Finally words start to make sense again and he can breathe a little deeper. "I-I... don't quite know, Jeremy. W-What did I do?"  
Jeremy sounds more than a little disconcerted. "You just froze up and started saying something really quietly. I think you were repeating the words _not defective_ over and over again."  
Squip stiffens at the sound of Jeremy's voice saying that damn word but he makes an effort to relax. "It may be that whenever I feel intense emotion I try to shut myself down like I would as a supercomputer."  
"Well, 'shut down' is one way to put it," Jeremy says, seemingly still shaken. "You pretty much stopped breathing and I couldn't get you to respond to anything."  
"I apologize," Squip says quietly. "What would you have me do now?"  
"W-what?" Jeremy looks bewildered. He holds a hand to Squip's forehead, which is admittedly a nice gesture.  
"I am not running a temperature, Jeremy. I would like to know what I am to do. You have expressed a desire for me to leave--"  
"I didn't mean that," Jeremy says quickly.  
Squip feels... surprised? Yes, surprise would be the emotion he feels now. "You would like me to stay?"  
"No-- I mean, yes-- just... God!" Jeremy runs a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly distressed. "Look, I just... I said I can't make myself hate you, and I meant that. Something about, I don't know, you being _human_ keeps me from just throwing you out. At least while you're all torn up and covered in injuries from who knows where. So for now... You stay. I keep watch on you when I can and we figure this out, hopefully without anyone winding up dead."  
"If not that, you could just... kill me with Mountain Dew Red in my sleep, you know," Squip says in a tiny voice. Sure, it's true, but he doesn't want Jeremy getting any ideas.  
"I could never do that, idiot!"  
He looks up at Jeremy, shocked. "W-what...?"  
"You seriously think that I want to _kill you?!_ Whether we like it or not, you're a human being now, making that technically count as murder! As much as I don't want to help you, I'm still going to and I'm not going to _murder_ you."  
"Oh..." And before he can stop himself; "Promise?"  
Jeremy seems taken aback by that. "Um... why do you want me to--"  
Squip shrugs, wishing he could take back the childish request. "It's what you humans do when you want to make sure somebody _isn't_ going to betray you and kill you in your sleep. Or otherwise. However, sleep-murder is preferable, seeing as I probably wouldn't wake up until--"  
"Okay, okay, geez, I promise. I'm not going to kill you. Or shut you down or whatever."  
Squip feels a flicker of warmth somewhere in his chest, unlike any emotion he recognizes, but it isn't burning hot like anger. Just a nice glow inside him. And weird wetness on his cheeks, what is that about? "Um--" He drags his fingers across his face, surprised to find water on his skin. "What the-- Why are my eyes exuding liquid?"  
"Dude, you're crying," Jeremy sounds like he's trying not to burst out laughing.  
"I am not, it's just-- Hey! Stop laughing!" Squip says indignantly, brushing and blinking away the remaining wetness. Jeremy claps his hand over his mouth, but the attempt is fruitless and it doesn't help that he's fallen off his bed.  
"'M sorry, man," he gasps finally. "But I never thought you could cry, much less might actually do it."  
Squip rolls his eyes. "I'm human, as you kindly pointed out. Did you really think I wouldn't have emotions?" He ignores the fact that he wishes himself that he didn't.  
"Well... kinda? This is new for me too, Squip. Oh, by the way, do you have a name? Cuz calling you 'Squip' is getting real weird real fast. You mentioned having... memories, right?"  
"Yes," Squip says quietly. "It feels almost as if I have been human... before."  
"Huh," Jeremy says. "What do you remember?"  
Squip shrugs. "Not much... Small things, childhood stuff. My family. The kind of thing that doesn't tell me how I ended up--" he gestures to himself-- "like this."  
"How are you so... uncaring about it?" The teen gets back in his bed and crosses his arms. "It's like you don't even care that you might actually be somebody besides just a computer. That you had a family. Don't you care about them?"  
Squip definitely feels uncomfortable now, no doubt about that. "They don't... have faces. Or names. Just... sometimes I can remember a single detail, and I can peice things together. But their voices don't even feel familiar. Like somebody just erased them from my mind entirely."  
"That... sucks."  
"Not particularly. If I can't remember them in the first place I'm not really _losing my family_. It'll be like I never even knew them." Squip takes a small step toward Jeremy, and when he doesn't react badly, the smaller boy takes a seat a respectful distance away on the opposite end of the bed. "When _are_ you going to tell me to leave?"  
"What-- _why do you keep bringing this up_?" Jeremy throws his hands up in exasperation. "Dude, I certainly don't like or trust you, but I'm not gonna kick you to the curb until you don't look like somebody tried to kill you. Speaking of which--"  
"I have no memory of how I sustained these injuries nor do I know how I arrived here," Squip interrupts. "I only have access to the past few days, as well as my time as a Squip."  
"...'access'? W-what is that supposed to mean?" Jeremy narrows his eyes.  
Squip sighs. "I have reason to believe that certain memories of mine, such as even the existence of my supposed family and childhood, have been altered or covered up in some way. When you forget things, it feels as if there is a gap in your memories, correct? Imagine your whole life like that. Just blank, clean space."  
"That... really sucks."  
"For once, I do not disagree."  
\---  
That night is Sunday night.  
There is no way this is going to end well.  
"Okay, just... I'll come get you when I, y'know... break the news, right? Pretty sure with the girls here, Michael and Rich won't do anything _too_ drastic," Jeremy says apprehensively. He looks about as nerve-wracked as Squip feels, meaning both of them are _incredibly_ reluctant to tell the others about Squip. He offers (for the twelfth time, he might add) that he could just leave now and never come back, Jeremy keeps shooting that down so he gives up, exasperated. _If he really wants me here, so be it._  
"Well... Wish me luck," Jeremt says quickly, darting out of the room and slamming the door. Squip flinches, then sighs and sits with his back to the door, listening to Jeremy's receding footsteps. He hears unintelligible voices in the living room downstairs, getting louder as Jeremy nears the speakers. He hears Michael and Rich yelling, but something feels... Off. They sound almost angry, maybe even vehement. And they're getting closer.  
Suddenly, Squip hears the unmistakable sound of footsteps, three pairs of them, rushing up the stairs, accompanied by shouting. _Michael told_. Of course he did. That way they could catch Squip off-guard.  
"Michael! Michael, wait!" Jeremy calls from somewhere down the hall.  
Michael's voice is right outside the door. "Rich! Hold him back, he isn't in control of his body!"  
Squip scrambles back away from the door. _I have to get out of here! Where can I_ \-- His thoughts are cut off by the sound of the door banging open. Squip's heart skips a beat as Michael and Rich burst into Jeremy's room.  
"Dude, wait, I can-- Michael!" Jeremy's panicked voice comes from the hallway, interrupted by the sounds of struggling. Squip meets Michael's eyes for a split second, before Jeremy comes from behind his friend and pulls his back, only to be grabbed by Rich. "He isn't controlling me!" Jeremy protests. "Listen--"  
"Whatever you're doing to him, stop it!" Michael ignores Jeremy to turn on Squip, who feels the fire of anger erupt in him.  
"I'm not doing anything to him!" He argues. Jeremy makes a muffled, distressed noise and something inside Squip wants to maim Michael, because he can't let anyone hurt Jeremy, _they'll terminate him if anyone hurts Jeremy_ \--  
"Squip!" Jeremy calls. "Squip, don't do anything! Rich, let me go, I can explain! Just-- Michael, stop. Don't... Don't hurt him, okay?" Michael glares even harder at Squip.  
" _Don't you fucking make him talk to me like it's real _\--"__  
"Michael, I'm serious, _do not give him the Mountain Dew Red _\--"__  
Squip panics; his heartbeat skyrockets, he can't breathe, the voice in the back of his mind whispers defective, the walls are pressing in on him again. His gut is cold and his blood feels like fire in his veins. Michael is approaching, Mountain Dew Red in hand and the clear scarlet liquid is so similar to blood. Squip doesn't want to be terminated, he doesn't want to shut down, he can do better next time, he isn't going to fail again, he thought he wasn't going to be shut down--  
_Jeremy promised_ , Squip thinks. And dark voice in the back of his mind responds.  
_Jeremy lied._  
Michael is only a few steps away, a few steps separating Squip from his own death. His pounding heart quiets enough to for him to hear Jeremy yelling at Michael. Probably telling him where Squip is injured, how to trap him. How to kill him.  
Squip doesn't want that to happen.  
So he runs.  
Michael tries to grab him, but Squip twists away before he can be caught. His mind screams _run run run_ in tandem with his rapid pulse. He feels a burst of energy as he dodges Michael and dashes for the door. Rich is holding Jeremy back in the hall and by the time he realizes what is happening and lets go of Jeremy, his attempt to grab him just misses Squip.  
"Fuck, he's fast!"  
Squip takes the stairs two at a time and hits the ground running, before Rich can even make it halfway down the stairs. Both boys are close behind him as Squip sports through the kitchen, flings Jeremy's front door open, and flees the house into the pitch-black night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy that, sorry the quality isn't very good! Please comment and leave a kudos if you haven't already!


	4. They Can Yell And Hurt Like Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Squip, wait!" Jeremy shouts. He turns around for a slips second, and his eyes catch the flicker of red liquid still in Michael's hands. _He's lying._ Squip doesn't look back again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woW this chapter is fUN  
> (I'm so sorry)

The cold air hits Squip like a tidal wave. His eyes water as he starts to sprint down the sidewalk. Goddamn it, he forgot his shoes. With every step, the cuts on his thigh and abdomen sear. The only sounds are his heavy breathing and his bare feet hitting the-- no, wait, he can hear footsteps behind him now. Far back, Jeremy's voice calls out for him, followed by indistinct shouting from Michael and Rich. He doesn't care. Jeremy lied. He let Michael try to kill him. The dark voice was right, Jeremy does hate him.  
_You were an idiot to trust him. To trust anyone._  
Squip hears the sounds of people advancing behind his back and forces himself to go faster, to ignore the stinging pain in his sides. The air feels cold and thin in his lungs. His head feels light.  
"Squip, wait!" Jeremy shouts. He turns around for a split second, and his eyes catch the flicker of red liquid still in Michael's hands. _He's lying._ Squip doesn't look back again. He turns a corner without thinking and can feel something take over his mind, an almost animalistic force driving him to forget how much it hurts, forget that he can't even breathe anymore, forget that his heart feels like it's going to burst. Just forget everything but imminent death nipping at his heels.  
Squip's strength begins to waver as a deep ache creeps into his legs and chest. His heartbeat is unbelievably elevated and uneven. His skin is freezing cold except for a few places where warm liquid coats it. Breathing gets so hard that he has to slow his pace by a fraction to draw air into his lungs. But as soon as he tries to sprint again, his legs falter and give out. Squip cries out as he hits the hard concrete. He's run himself into an unrecognizable suburban area, but he can't still hear Jeremy calling for him. He forces himself to get up and try to run, but he's out of energy and the adrenaline isn't masking the pain anymore and he can't breathe--  
"Squip! Squip, it's okay, we're not going to hurt you!" Jeremy is only a hundred yards away, easily able to catch Squip, who tries desperately one last time to run. The world spins harshly but he stays on his own two feet just long enough to make it to the end of the block and feel something slam into him.  
"Keep him still, I don't want him escaping!"  
_Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ it's another trap, Squip's been pinned to the ground with his arm bent behind his back. He tries to writhe away from the grip of whoever is in top of him, but he hears Rich growl, "Stay still!" He doesn't obey until Rich twists his arm and he cries out in pain.  
"Jeremy!" Michael's voice shouts. The other boy must have arrived. Jeremy sounds upset, he's talking to Michael insistently. Something about control and murder and promises, didn't Jeremy promise he wouldn't shut Squip down-- _Jeremy lied, he's going to kill me_ \-- why is Jeremy trying to stop Michael, isn't this what he wants?  
Squip tries to speak, to tell Rich to get off, but he can't breathe for the weight on his chest, he can only manage a strangled moan.  
"Let him go, Rich!" Jeremy says. _He probably wants to kill me himself._ "I'm not under his control--"  
"We can't trust you until we shut the thing down, he could be controlling you and making you say that!" Michael insists. Squip hears the sound of oncoming footsteps and tries again to get away from Rich. An inhuman noise, a primal screech of fear and pain and desperation tears itself from his throat. Jeremy says something to Michael. The footsteps don't stop getting closer. There is a rushing noise in his ears. His vision is blurry and dark, there's liquid pouring out of his eyes again. He feels sick and freezing cold. His body is shaking rapidly, though he can't thrash around anymore.  
He tries to call for Jeremy, but the words are barely able to leave his mouth. Jeremy must hear, however, because he starts to speak to him. Squip can't understand the words, but the tone is comforting and gentle and-- _Jeremy lied, he can't trust him anymore._  
"I don't want to die!" He screams. "Let go of me!" Rich presses down harder. Squip screams and tries to twist around, but he only succeeds in nearly dislocating his right shoulder. The stab of pain pulls him back to the present enough that he can hear Michael finally starting to believe Jeremy.  
"Rich, let him go," Jeremy says again.  
Rich sputters. "Dude, this is literally the computer that _nearly took over the school_. I am not going to let this thing anywhere near you."  
"Trust me," he pleads. "Dude, he can't even do anything. You're hurting him."  
"Should I _care_?"  
Michael steps in before the two start to fight. "Rich, if you can't trust Jeremy right now, then trust me. Do what he says."  
Rich hesitates. "I'll still be ready to deck him."  
Squip feels the pressure on his back and the iron grip on his wrist go away. He takes a shuddering breath in and rolls onto his side, tentatively touching the area around his wounds. Pain shoots across his skin when he touches the one on his right side. A tint of red coats his fingertips.  
Michael scoffs. "Even if you aren't under the Squip's control, you still need to shut itdown."  
"Dude, I told you I'm not going to _kill him_ \--"  
"The thing tried to ruin your life! Look, Jer, just let me do it, that way you don't have to--"  
"Nobody is killing Squip!" Jeremy protests. Michael makes an exasperated noise.  
" _We have to_. We can't trust the thing. We need to get rid of it before he can take over again. Just let me give it the Mountain Dew Red and this can be over!"  
The boys continue to argue, but it falls on deaf ears. Squip disregards their fighting to start crawling away, slowly but surely dragging himself forward. His injuries burn and sting, but he blinks away the water gathering in his eyes and keeps going. He's moved a few feet when Michael suddenly stops speaking and Squip notices the absence of sound a second too late.  
"Hey!" Michael snaps. "Don't move. Stay right there or I'll force feed you this stuff you're so scared of." Squip freezes in place, heartbeat speeding up as his eyes flick between Michael and Jeremy.  
"Michael.." Jeremy says quietly. "Come on, man."  
There is a pause. Then, Jeremy's footsteps can be heard coming closer.  
"Shit, you're bleeding," Jeremy breathes, crouching near Squip. He jumps and edges away, but Jeremy makes a shushing noise and puts a hand on his arm. "Come on, it's okay. I didn't mean to scare you."  
"Michael? Rich? Jeremy? What's going on?" Someone interrupts. Squip and Jeremy turn to the voice. Christine, Brooke, and Chloe are standing a few feet away, breathing heavily.  
Michael starts talking to the girls in a hushed voice, leaving Jeremy to turn back to Squip. The supercomputer-turned-human tries to pull away from his former host's gentle touches, but Jeremy keeps a firm hold on his shoulders and guides him into a sitting position. As soon as he moves more than a few inches, Squip's head feels faint. A chill runs up his spine and he shudders. Jeremy immediately looks worried.  
"Are you cold? What's wrong? Are you hurt anywhere new?"  
_Don't trust Jeremy_. "N-no, everything's fine. Just... quite tired." Squip does his best to hide how his words slur slightly, but he knows Jeremy can tell 'tired' doesn't even begin cover it. "I don't need help standing, Jeremy."  
"Oh. Right." Jeremy pulls back slightly. At least he can tell Squip needs time alone to think. (About how he's going to escape tomorrow). "You won't run, right?"  
"Do I look capable?" Squip can't keep down that bit of snark. Jeremy, fortunately, doesn't decide to kill him for mouthing off and just sighs. Squip stands up, albeit a little shakily. His legs are still weak and sore from sprinting so far. Jeremy hovers next to him nervously, until Christine appears.  
"Michael wants to talk, Jeremy." She looks apologetic. "I think you owe him an explaination."  
Jeremy looks uncomfortable. He huffs. "Yeah... I guess I do. Can you take care of... y'know?" Christine gives a sidelong glance to Squip, who probably looks a little like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time. He certainly _feels_ like it. She seems to fight down the urge to smile.  
"I can handle it," Christine says brightly. Her eyes flick over Squip's body. "Do you need some help?" Her tone is sincere and he wants to trust her but _he can't_. Squip shakes his head.  
"I'm fine on my own," he grinds out through clenched teeth. Drawing himself to full height causes the skin around his injuries to tighten and pull on the now open wounds, so he has to stay slightly hunched over. Christine notices his hiss of pain as he tries to walk and sighs.  
"I don't think so," she says, moving closer to him. Squip immediately steps back, before letting her hands brush his shoulders. She nods. "Good," she murmurs. "It's okay, you can trust me."  
Against his better judgement, Squip trusts her.  
\---  
Jeremy feels his stomach fill with dread as the front door bangs open and Squip is gone into the night. Michael and Rich hurtle down the stairs after him, and Jeremy finds himself following. His mind still lingers on the look in Squip's eyes. His expression flickered through different emotions in a blink of an eye: shock to anger to fear to... what must have been betrayal. _I promised_ , Jeremy thinks to himself in despair as he bolts ahead of Michael and Rich out of the house. The knife of cold guilt in his heart twists painfully as he realizes why Squip is running. _He thinks I broke my promise._ Michael still has the Mountain Dew Red; he obviously plans to shut Squip down. Jeremy grits his teeth and puts more power into his sprint. He's going to do this right, without anyone else getting hurt.  
Squip is a good ten yards away. He'd gotten a considerable head start while they're were all scrambling to figure out what had happened. And Rich was right, Squip was fast as hell for a weakened, injured--  
"Oh, shit, he's gonna open his injuries," Jeremy curses under his shallow breath. "Squip, wait!" The figure ahead of him seems to turn around and hesitate for a split second before starting to run again. Squip turns the corner and disappears behind a row the corner house. Michael catches up to Jeremy.  
"I told Rich to cut him off when he reaches the end of the block," his friend pants. "Jeremy--"  
Jeremy cuts him off. "I'll explain later, Michael. I promise, just... trust me."  
"I'll try," Michael says skeptically. "But we're having a bro-to-bro talk about secrets after this is over, 'kay?" Jeremy can't argue with that. He bursts around last the corner and his eyes land on Squip. He's still far away, but Jeremy can tell he's slowing down. Something on the ground flashes in the moonlight and Jeremy realizes with a jolt that it's droplets of blood, trailing to Squip. The figure in front of him crumples suddenly and yelps as they collide with the ground. Jeremy winces as he staggers up and tries to run again, only to reach the end of the block and have Rich slam into him from the right. The ensuing cry of pain makes Jeremy feel sick.  
"Jeremy!" Michael holds out the Mountain Dew Red. Jeremy takes a startled step back.  
"Dude, no, I-- I can't, Michael. I'm not--"  
"Why won't you just get rid of him?" Michael insists, pressing the bottle against his chest. Jeremy pushes it away.  
"I promised him I wouldn't murder him in cold blood, okay?" Jeremy argues. "I can't just kill another human being!"  
Squip interrupts Michael's angry response with a moan of pain. Jeremy notices Rich pinning him to the ground, and his heart skips a beat. _They're gonna kill him_. "Let him go, Rich! I'm not under his control--"  
Michael steps in front of Jeremy. "We can't trust you until we shut the thing down, it could be controlling you and making you say that!" His friend's eyes glisten suddenly. "I don't want a repeat of last time, Jeremy! I'm not going to let him hurt you again."  
_No, Michael. Don't cry, man,_ Jeremy thinks. Michael blinks rapidly. "At least let me take him home before we... decide what to do. Okay?" Michael nods, turns, and starts to approach Squip. Jeremy resists the urge to stop him, but before Michael can even speak to Rich, an earsplitting scream assaults makes them all jump. The sound isn't human; its an animalistic, unbridled cry. Jeremy frantically looks to Rich, who is struggling to keep Squip from escaping. The teenager makes a little whimper when his wild, fear-filled eyes find Jeremy standing a few feet. Jeremy's conscience screams at him to _do something_. He hears something like his name fall from Squip's mouth. Michael turns to him, looking thoroughly shaken. Jeremy cringes. "This isn't new," he says, still approaching. "Squip, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you--"  
Squip hisses something under his breath. Jeremy catches the words ' _Jeremy lied_ ' before he screams again.  
" _I don't want to die! Let go of me!_ "  
Michael turns to Jeremy again. "Dude, I'm starting to think you might be right about the 'literally physically unable to hurt anyone' thing."  
"Rich, let him go!" Jeremy shouts, starting to feel like he's going to throw up if he hears any more screaming. Rich snorts indignantly.  
"Dude, this is literally the computer than _nearly took over the school_. I am not going to let this thing anywhere near you," he argues, still trying to keep a writhing Squip under control.  
"Trust me," he pleads. "Dude, he can't even do anything. You're hurting him."  
"Should I _care_?"  
Michael steps in before the two start to fight. "Rich, if you can't trust Jeremy right now, then trust me. Do what he says."  
Rich hesitates, and Jeremy silently wills his friend to listen. "I'll still be ready to deck the thing," the shorter teen says, reluctantly letting go and standing a few steps behind Michael. Squip groans and rolls onto his side, gently probing his injuries.  
Michael scoffs. "Even if you aren't under the Squip's control, you still need to shut itdown."  
Jeremy feels the blood rush out of his face. "Dude, I told you I'm not going to _kill him_ \--"  
"The thing tried to ruin your life! Look, Jer, just let me do it, that way you don't have to--"  
"Nobody is killing Squip!" Jeremy protests, his stomach clenching in fear. Michael makes an exasperated noise and steps forward to grab hold his right wrist.  
" _We have to_. We can't trust the thing. We need to get rid of it before it can take over again. Just let me give it the Mountain Dew Red and this can be over!"  
"No! I mean-- no. We can't. I promised I wouldn't, and I can't go back on it now, and I--"  
"Oh, so you care more for the _evil computer_ than your own best friend!" Michael shouts, glaring daggers at Jeremy, who takes a step back, head reeling. There is a moment of awkward silence, before Michael takes a shaky breath in and exhales. "Shit. That was-- I... Sorry, Jer. Didn't mean to explode."  
"It's fine, I get it," Jeremy assures him. "We're all... stressed. Very stressed. Just-- I can handle this."  
Michael pauses, tries (and fails) to hide his glance to Rich, who nods, and lets go of Jeremy's wrist. "I'm still gonna be keeping an eye on-- what was that?" His head snaps around to find Squip having moved a few feet, blood smearing behind him on the sidewalk. Jeremy hears Rich mutter curses under his breath. "Hey! Don't move. Stay right there or I'll force feed you this stuff you're so scared of," Michael demands, suppressing a slight shake in his voice. _That's a lot of blood_ , Jeremy thinks, coils of fear building in his stomach again.  
"Michael," Jeremy says. "Come on, man." _We gotta help him,_ his expression silently communicates. Michael looks to Squip, then to Jeremy, to Squip, back to Jeremy, and finally hands the Mountain Dew Red to Rich for safekeeping. Jeremy kneels next to Squip. His eyes are drawn to a light coating of crimson on the boy's fingertips. Jeremy swears aloud. "You're bleeding," he says quietly, reaching out to put his hands on the teen. Squip jolts wildly and tries to push himself back. Jeremy feels guilt stab into him again, and he makes a soft comforting noise. "Come on, it's okay. I didn't mean to scare you."  
"Michael?" Christine's voice comes from behind him. "Rich? Jeremy?" She, Brooke, and Chloe have arrived, gasping from the run. She looks confused and scared, more so when she sees Squip and Jeremy, at the end of a trail of blood. Jeremy starts to get up, but Michael gives a minute shake of his head and begins to explain to the girls instead. Jeremy adds thanking Michael for handling this to his mental checklist. Worry fills his chest as his eyes flick over Squip's shaking form again. The smaller teen isn't looking him in the eyes. Jeremy feels him pull back when he curls his fingers around Squip's shoulders, but he keeps a strong hold on the kid and pulls him gently into a sitting position. Squip sways back and forth, his eyes unfocused, before he stills and stays in one place, shudders as if cold. "A-are you cold? What's wrong? Are you hurt anywhere new?" Jeremy doesn't mean to smother him in questions, but he feels suddenly obligated to help by his _stupid fucking conscience_.  
Squip's words blend together at the edges, but Jeremy can tell he says, "N-no, everything's fine. Just... quite tired." 'Tired' doesn't even begin to cover it; Squip's eyes are hazy and half-closed, his skin is flushed feverishly, and his movement are slow and shaky at best. "I don't need help standing, Jeremy," Squip says, sounding slightly exasperated. _At least he isn't_ completely _unlike himself,_ Jeremy thinks, slightly relieved Squip is showing some semblance of his original personality.  
"Oh. R-Right," Jeremy stammers, moving back a foot or so, giving Squip the space to stand up hesitantly. He stumbles at first but manages to keep upright and take a few steps. The teen probably could use some time alone to process the whole ordeal of the night. Jeremy knows he does. He still asks, to be sure, "You won't run, right?"  
"Do I look capable?" Squip asks sardonically. Some part of Jeremy urges him to punish the other teen for that remark, but he shoves that desire down. _I'm trying to be the better person here,_ he reminds himself. The sound of light footfalls behind him draw Jeremy's attention.  
"Michael wants to talk, Jeremy," Christine's voice sounds slightly sad. She gives him a slightly motherly look. "I think you owe him an explanation."  
Yeah, Jeremy sigh internally. _No kidding_. "Yeah... I guess I do. Can you take care of... y'know?" He doesn't miss Christine's glance at Squip and the way the corners of her mouth tug slightly like she's trying not to smile. He doesn't need to look to know Squip is probably stumbling around like a drunk.  
"I can handle it." She places a reassuring hand on Jeremy's shoulder, before he walks back to Michael. Jeremy runs hands through his brown hair.  
"Why don't you start at the top?" Michael says quietly, eyeing Squip every few seconds. Jeremy laughs sadly.  
"Yeah," he chuckles. "I guess that's always a good place to start."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you aren't crying too hard! Please comment and leave a kudos if you haven't!


	5. But I Know I'll Be Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Images flicker over his eyes, bright and grainy like an old television screen. An overwhelming noise of static fills his ears. Squip can't move, can't even feel a world around him. A floating sensation is all he detects. The images flash by so quickly he he only catches glimpses, but he processes the information as soon as he sees it. Everything is overly-shiny as if manufactured. The edges of his vision are curved and blurry. Words play on repeat in his head; listen, obey, imperfect, pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, like the previous, has been written and rewritten over and over to the point where I'm worried that I'll make it even worse if I try again, so I hope you at least tolerate this poor-quality, written-while-I-had-little-sleep fifth chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: hey, everyone, this is a lil update... about the next update. (That sounded better in my head...) I sadly will not b able to post another chapter today like I had planned! I'm sorry but some other stuff took up my time today so there won't be a new chapter out. I however will still be responding to comments! I need to finish out a little more of chapter six and if nothing gets in the way it should be out by tomorrow! Thanks everyone!

Time stops having meaning around halfway back; Squip loses track of when he left and how long he's been walking. He knows that by now two people are by his sides, one is Christine and the other... well, in all honestly, he doesn't bother to look. By the time he realizes he's back at Jeremy's house, he can't feel his hands or feet. The logical part of his mind tells him maybe, just maybe, this is a sign of severe blood loss and he should be more freaked out, but Squip honestly can't find it in himself to care. Christine's gentle hands lead him to the couch in Jeremy's living room, and although he'd rather not be so vulnerable, he trusts she knows what she's doing. And he's fucking _exhausted_ , so the couch is a fine place to crash.  
Squip basically collapses onto the sofa and curls in on himself, despite the painful protests from his injuries. His eyes close halfway and unfocus as the others file in quietly. He hears Jeremy speaking to them but the words don't process. A sort of static descends over his mind. There is a pause in the unintelligible conversation, then he hears his name somewhere in a sentence. Squip cracks one eye open and sees Jeremy staring down at him, worry clearly expressed on his face. He tries to focus on what Jeremy is saying, but the question is obvious without words; _are you okay?_  
Squip nods to the unheard question and Jeremy looks relieved. He turns around to the rest of his friends. Squip makes a small effort to listen to him begin to explain.  
"...ago, after I was at Michael's late at night, I was walking home and I found... _him._ He was all bloody and torn up, and he looked like he'd been walking pretty long before I found him. At first I was pretty freaked out, because, y'know. It's the evil computer that was in my brain. But I couldn't just... leave him there, not without feeling like a total ass. I want to be the good guy here. _Do not make that pun, Rich._ Trust me, I get it. I should've told you all as soon as I found him. But I figured if I told one of you, word would spread before I could tell you the full story."  
"Man, so glad _that_ did happen," Squip mutters, unaware the room had went quiet before he did so.  
"Oh, so the oversized microwave lives," Rich says quietly. Squip rolls his eyes and lets Jeremy go on.  
"Well, uh, I don't need to tell anyone how tonight went. Just that I was planning to tell you guys, right before this whole thing began, so... I was going to. That counts for something, I'm sure."  
"The thought is there," Michael deadpans. That earns a weak smile from Jeremy. "So you're serious about keeping the Squip around? Even after everything?"  
Jeremy nods fervently. Squip takes mental note of how little he hesitates. "I'm gonna help him until he's better."  
"He?" Christine asks. "Isn't a Squip a computer?"  
Squip pipes up, "This body seems to mentally identify as male. Either nonbinary or male pronouns would be fine, though masculine pronouns seem to be what my mind has settled upon. I have previously informed Jeremy of this."  
Christine hums in acknowledgement. "Sorry to interrupt, I was just curious."  
Michael continues, "Then it-- _he's_ out of here, right?"  
"Right. But I don't know how long it'll take or if he even knows where he got those injuries. They looked pretty bad last time I checked." Jeremy glances back at Squip for a split second. The teen offers him a tiny smile as reassurance that he is, indeed, still alive. "I'm still a bit in the dark about all this, too. There is one last thing I want you guys to hear. Squip?"  
Squip sighs. _I really didn't want to be pulled into explaining all this_. "Mhm?"  
"Tell them about your memories."  
Squip visibly stiffens. He notices Christine draw in a little breath as Jeremy speaks. He is aware of all eye in the room being trained on him. "Seriously? That is the one thing I really did not want to speak of ever again."  
Jake finally speaks up after being relatively silent this whole time. "Okay, now I'm interested. What're you getting at, Jer? He's a computer, he has no memories."  
"Tell them, Squip."  
"No."  
" _Squip_."  
"Fine!" Squip sits up quickly and winces at the multiple stabs of pain he feels, but he curls his hands up and starts speaking. "The first night I was here, I had a nightmare. Upon waking, I remembered very old memories of a family that I assumed was mine. Through this, and other experiences, I came to the conclusion that I was at one point in time a human being and that my memories have been locked away and are only now accessible once my mind is no longer fully awake and begins to recollect itself, thus effectively unlocking memories. _Is that satisfactory, Jeremy_?" His monologue ends in a growl. Squip hasn't noticed until now that he's digging his nails into his palms and his eyes are stinging. He forces himself to relax back into the couch cushions, taking a deep breath.  
Jeremy is silent for a moment. Then, "That's fine, yeah. Thanks." He turns back to the others, who are looking a little shaken. "He said after I asked about them that he thought he might have been human before. And I'm honestly inclined to believe that."  
Jake snorts. "Sorry, but there's no way in hell, man. That could never happen. How could you even turn someone _into_ a computer, much less undo it afterward? That makes no sense."  
"Yeah, I want to agree with jake," Brooke says from her spot next to Chloe. The two girls have been, like Jake, mostly silent through Jeremy's explanation apart from the occasional gasp or incredulous expletive. Michael just shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. Squip notes their reactions with mild interest. He doesn't really care if they believe him or not. Or at least, he likes to think so. Their lack of faith shouldn't bother Squip, and if it does he refuses to acknowledge that fact.  
"I don't get it either!" Jeremy snaps. When everybody recoils, he sighs. "S-sorry. But that's the only explanation so far for any of this."  
"Still doesn't explain how the Squip is human," Michael says before Jeremy can respond.  
Squip clenches his teeth, annoyed with the accusation against his humanity. "I can prove it." The boys stop talking to look at him, their faces different shades of incredulous.  
"What exactly are you going to--" Jeremu cuts himself off when Squip stands and starts to take off his jacket and shirt. He hears Michael makes a weird noise in protest but doesn't listen. If they want proof he's human, why not give it?  
Jeremy scrambles to his feet as soon as Squip peels up one edge of the now-pink gauze bandages. "Squip, Squip, calm down. Don't do that."  
Squip makes a noncommittal noise in response. "Why not? What better way to show-- ouch!" The injury previously under a gauze bandage now stings when exposed to fresh air. He clears his throat. "As I was saying, what better way to show you all that I am human than to prove I bleed just like you?" The wound is bloodied, pitiful clots forming at the edges that barely stem the seeping of scarlet fluid.  
Michael makes another disgusted noise, either at the sight of the deep slit in Squip's right side or the words that just came from Squip's mouth. Rich mutters "Yikes" under his breath. The girls all stare in horror. Jeremy just... stands there, stock-still.  
"How did _that_ happen?" Someone, Squip really doesn't care to notice, asks incredulously.  
"We... don't know," he admits, pulls the jacket gingerly back down over his wounds. A slight sting accompanies the movement. Jeremy notices him flinch, and opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Rich.  
"Heere, where's the first aid?" The short teen says tightly.  
"U-under the sink in the bathroom. Why are you--" Jeremy starts, but Brooke lays a hand in his arm and pull him down onto the floor next to her. Rich leaves the room and Squip can hear the sounds of cabinets opening and closing in the kitchen. Brooke looks to Chloe, then speaks quietly.  
"Rich... he knows first aid. His dad is--"  
"A prick."  
"Well. Yeah, okay, he really is. So Rich has had to patch himself up a couple times. And seeing other people's injuries kinda... strikes a nerve with him," Brooke says.  
Jake chimes in, "One time I got a roughed up in a fight with some other guys on the team, and he practically smothered me with bandages. Dude's really good with blood and stuff." His eyes darken and the room falls quiet just as Rich re-enters with a white box tucked under his arm.  
"Take off your shirt," he tells Squip. Somebody wolf-whistles and Rich threatens to strangle them with medical tape if they don't shut up. Squip complies to the command and slowly pulls off his jacket and Jeremy's shirt. "Stay still, it'll gonna hurt more if you move." Squip nods, then immediately winces when Rich begins to peel off the bandages. A few of them are dyed pink with blood. Squip looks away, feeling sick. There is a tearing sound, the a fresh strip of gauze is pressed against the first open cut in his side and bordered with white medical tape. The other two each get the same treatment.  
The room is mostly silent until Rich asks softly, "Is your arm hurt?"  
"I-- no, it's not." This is true; The only injury on the arm Rich had pinned him by is a tiny bruise, but Rich still takes a look with critical eyes before humming and begrudgingly letting go.  
"Look," Rich says softly, so the others can't hear. "I...I'm sorry about earlier? I mean, maybe you shouldn't have run, and I thought you were going to hurt Jer and that maybe even _my_ Squip was back and I just..." He trails off and Squip supplies a word.  
"Panicked."  
"Y-yeah. So I'm sorry about... all of that," Rich whispers. "If I'd know you were hurt I wouldn't have-- I didn't even notice until Jeremy brought it up. All I could think about was-- I just don't want anyone else to get hurt more than we already are." He pauses, looking like he wants to say more, but only leans away to re-pack and close the first aid kit.  
"Neither do I," Squip sighs, leaning back against the armrest of the couch. "Neither do I."  
\---  
_Images flicker over his eyes, bright and grainy like an old television screen. An overwhelming noise of static fills his ears. Squip can't move, can't even feel a world around him. A floating sensation is all he detects. The images flash by so quickly he he only catches glimpses, but he processes the information as soon as he sees it. Everything is overly-shiny as if manufactured. The edges of his vision are curved and blurry. Words play on repeat in his head; listen, obey, imperfect, pathetic, listen, obey, imperfect, pathetic, listen obey imperfect pathetic listenobeyimperfectpathetic, obeyobeyobeyobey-- Squip shakes the words away, they feel too familiar for comfort, and he looks again at the images. White walls, flashes of turquoise liquid spattered on the ground, light in his eyes, blue eyes reflected in a glass window, an IV sliding into pale skin, screaming screaming screaming everywhere, a flicker of static passes over his eyes followed by the shriek of metal scraping against metal. Back to tranquil white, the splatters of blue are gone, deep silence broken by the sound of faint screaming, hands clawing at clean walls, his hands, blood leaking from his fingertips as they tear, hundreds of blue eyes glowing in the dark, pounding on glass, something like his own voice screaming over the static._  
_The images slow until one stream of them is clear to Squip. The sight is shaky like found-footage, black flickers obscuring certain scenes from his eyes. A long hallway stretches out in front of him, bright light covering the end. For a split second he catches a glimpse of figures behind him with glinting, silver medical instruments in their hands. The images turn back to the bright hall, the light getting closer and closer and closer until--_  
Squip sits bolt upright and his eyes snap open. He's on Jeremy's couch, pristine white bandages wrapped all the way around his torso. A blanket is tangled around his legs. A sheen of cold sweat covers his bare chest and face. He drags his fingers through his hair and exhales deeply.  
"I don't like sleeping," he thinks aloud.  
"That might be problematic, considering you kind of need it," Jeremy's voice comes from his left. Squip yelps in surprise and scrambles back to the armrest on the other end of the the couch. Jeremy is leaning in the doorframe to the kitchen. "You fell asleep on the couch after Rich left. We sort of left you alone after that." Squip nods, staring at his hands. Did tonight even really happen? It all feels so unreal; the chase, explaining everything, then Rich... Jeremy clears his throat and nods to the door. "They're all still here, so you know... It's time." Squip feels his stomach drop out and he takes a slow, calming breath.  
_Okay. Okay, this is easy. Be calm, don't mess up,_ Squip reassures himself, but it doesn't help the rapid bum-bum of his heart. Jeremy gives him a little nudge into the kitchen, where the rest of the group is gathered around the marble island in the center. They all fall silent when he enters and he wants to get out of here dammit Jeremy--  
"Oh my God," he hears Christine mutter exasperatedly, and before Squip can protest she takes his wrist and drags him into the center of the kitchen. "We aren't going to kill you--"  
"Yet," some jokes.  
"Shut up, you aren't helping." Christine doesn't let go until Squip stops trying to pull away from her, and even then she glances at him every few seconds. He stands awkwardly, staring at his fingers as he winds and twists them together. Brooke is the first to speak up.  
"So... What happened at the play-- that _wasn't_ a crazy ecstasy trip?" She asks. Squip shakes his head.  
"No, it-- well, I expect you already been told all about it." The cold feeling in his stomach starts up again, and it compels him not to explain what really happened that night. _That horrible night._ A chill travels up his back and he suppresses the urge to shudder.  
Chloe snorts. "Yeah, Jeremy's music friend gave us the short story." The sound of Michael sighing is probably audible to Squip's creators in Japan.  
"But we want to hear it from you," Christine says gently. "Just-- who are you and what is all this?"  
Squip takes a deep breath, knowing it's going to be a long night. "I'm a Squip, to answer your first question."  
"Wait, 'quick'?" Brooke says, looking hopelessly lost. Squip rolls his eyes.  
_The name is not that damn hard, people. _"Squip. Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. I'm a-- _was___ a supercomputer."  
"What happened?" Chloe asks.  
Squip chuckles under his breath. "Still figuring that part out, to be honest. But that's besides the point. What I'm getting at is that I belonged to Jeremy and am generally considered the cause of everyone's problems." The group is silent for a long moment.  
"...are you?" This comes from Christine.  
Squip directs his gaze to his hands again. "Some of you are... of that opinion, yes. However, I--" He cuts himself off, not liking where his train of thought is leading. So he picks up somewhere else. "To answer your second question, Christine, 'all of this' could be many things. What do you want to know, _specifically?_ "  
"Why are you here?" Christine asks. Brooke nods along with her.  
"I'm here mostly because Jeremy decided saving my life was the right thing to do, and that he is going to keep me here until I am able to survive in my own."  
"Are any of our Squips going to come back?" Chloe asks in a quiet, frightened voice. "I mean, if you're alive, why not the rest of them?"  
Squip feels one of the grainy images from his dreams resurface in his mind's eye. Instinctively, he has the strong inclination that the other teen's Squips, if they were at one time also human, didn't survive the same ordeal that gave him his injuries. "No," he says with an almost unsettling certainly. "No, your Squips most likely did not live through... whatever I did. The odds are extremely low."  
"Oh, thank God," she says and Squip hears several of the other breath sighs of relief. Coldness pools in his stomach. He pointedly ignores it.  
"Wait, so if you're human... what do you eat?" Brooke asks suddenly.  
There is a long, drawn-out silence.  
Squip says quietly, "I have no idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If by some miracle you enjoyed that, please comment and leave a kudos if you haven't!


	6. Everything About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He and Jeremy fall into a sort of routine; Jeremy leaves for school and returns home around four or five in the afternoon or stays over at Michael's to play video games. For the most part, Squip is by himself.  
> Nothing good comes of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this is down late I'm sorry!!  
> I totally got murdered by school ;-; Also I need to write these chapters now so it will be a little longer between updates. Thanks for your patience!  
> Please enjoy!
> 
> UPDATE: so.... I was GONNA post today but I actually have very little new material. Like, U thought I wrote a lot but it was really not a lot... ;-; I'll try to write my butt off tonight and post the next chapter tomorrow! Sorry to leave you all hanging!

They finally answer that particular question, after a tiring string of trails and errors. They learn that Squip's body has an aversion to.... well, _everything_. Everything except citrus soft drinks, most readily available in the form of Mountain Dew.  
Squip finds this information not surprising in the least, considering he already has strong inclinations that, somehow, Mountain Dew still affected him. Michael and Jeremy speculate that it could have something to do with the chemicals in Mountain Dew, but none of the group knows for sure. All they really care about is that it doesn't make Squip sick every time he tries to eat.  
So that's how he ends up living off soft drinks.  
After the disaster that was Sunday night, the aptly-named 'Squip Squad' does their best to avoid Squip, and he returns the favor. His brief encounters are mostly with Christine, who takes to checking on him for Jeremy when he isn't home. Though Squip appreciates her company, he can tell that deep down she doesn't like being around him. And that's... ~~hardlonelypainful~~ understandable. It doesn't help the near-constant pool of cold emotion in his stomach, but it makes _sense_ to Squip.  
He and Jeremy fall into a sort of routine; Jeremy leaves for school (junior year doesn't stop for anything, even the Apocalypse) and Squip is left on his own at the Heere residence. So far Jeremy's father has been on a business trip, but he will return Wednesday. Jeremy returns home around four or five in the afternoon or stays over at Michael's to play video games. For the most part, Squip is by himself.  
Nothing good comes of this.  
Squip _hates_ the quiet. _Hates hates hates_ it. It doesn't feel natural. Not after spending all that time in a human brain, which is many things but never quiet. Hell, the noise in there would be deafening by most people's standards. But to him the constant sound was comforting.  
Amazing what you learn to love when it's all you ever know. ( _All you ever think you know_ , he reminds himself.) Because, well... Squip has memories now. A life outside of supercomputer-dom, a family, an entire world he was a part of that he forgot.  
His insides squirm when he thinks of that. What terrible thing could have happened to cause his whole life to be lost? Squip shifts around on the large windowsill by Jeremy's bed, trying to get comfortable. His temple is pressed against the cold glass, watching the wind rustle the branches of trees outside. His eyes have adopted a dull, unfocused look to them. Squip's heartbeat is obnoxiously obvious in his chest. Sometimes the reminder of his living body is more painful than any of his injuries.  
Squip shakes his head, clearing it of the heavy fog that had settled over his mind. He stretches in an almost feline manner and leaves the window. Squip pauses by Jeremy's door, wanting to leave but scared of the consequences if he gets caught breaking Jeremy's rules. Would his former host go so far as to kill him...?  
_No, Jeremy wouldn't_ , Squip insists to himself. _He promised._  
But the voice in the back of his mind whispers, _Jeremy lied to you. He wants to kill you. You're better off dead anyway._  
Squip shakes his head again, more violently, trying to dispel the thoughts. Ever since Sunday, the dark voice in the back of my mind has been spewing one invasive and derogatory thought after another. The constant stream of insults has made Squip's chest feel perpetually tight.  
_Just like you did to Jeremy._  
Squip suddenly feels very, _very_ sick. His insides churn with cold emotions and he feels his throat constrict. The walls close in, he can't breathe anymore, where is Jeremy, he needs Jeremy.  
In an effort to escape the tight, stuffy space of Jeremy's room, Squip disregards the rules and stumbles out into the hall, hands searching for walls or some other place to ground himself in reality. His eyes dart all other, looking for somewhere he can _breathe_ , when the room isn't crushing him.  
And then he hears the front door open.  
_FuckfuckfuckJeremy'shome_. Squip scrambles to get back in his former host's room, which is still suffocating and full of bad memories. _Shut me down, please shut me down, I don't want to be here anymore--_  
"Squip, I'm-- home...?" Jeremy pauses at the door, halfway through taking off his backpack. He stops at the sight of Squip curled up in a tight ball on his little pallet of blankets. Immediately the teen starts worrying over him. "Oh shit, are you-- no, of course you aren't okay, you wouldn't be like this if you were! What happened, does something hurt? Was it the-- the nightmares or are you--"  
"Jeremy," Squip says quietly. The boy stops rambling with a tiny 'sorry'. "It's nothing, Jeremy. I am fine." It sounds fake, even to Squip's ears. His own voice is flat and lifeless. Jeremy doesn't buy it for one second.  
"Like hell you are, what's wrong?" Jeremy sounds like he really cares, maybe Squip should tell him--  
_No, no, it's all a lie, Jeremy's lying, we can't trust him he's going to hurt you get out get out before he hurts you,_ come a rush of frantic thoughts. Squip shudders and then shakes his head. "I-It's none of your concern, Jere--"  
"Oh, don't give me that!" Jeremy is raising his voice and Squip just wants to be shut off, just wants this to be over. "I know when something's wrong, it's not hard to tell." He lowers his voice again. "Was it because you were panicking again? Like, that time when you tried to shut down?" Squip does nothing. His defiant silence is answer enough. He hears Jeremy sigh in exasperation. "Why don't you tell me if you're hurting? Physically or otherwise?"  
Squip doesn't realize at first that he says his next thoughts aloud; "Because I can't trust you." But when Jeremy jerks in surprise and his expression changes entirely, Squip figures it out. "Wait, I didn't mean to--"  
"I didn't tell him," Jeremy says in a small voice, barely heard.  
"I-- What?"  
"I didn't tell Michael. About you. I didn't plan any of that, I'm serious. Trust me."  
Squip stumbles over his words. "I-I can't do that, Jeremy. You... A-and at the play... And I just. Can't." Then, so soft he isn't even sure he says it, "I'm sorry."  
Jeremy hears though, because he grows very still. "You've never said that before."  
_Haven't I?_ "Haven't I? Well, in that case... I'm sorry, Jeremy." _For everything. For making your friends mad at you, for making you hate yourself. For ruining everything, for being such a burden, for hurting you, I'm sorry for everything._ Squip feels his insides turn to ice. Quietly, he asks, "Jeremy?"  
"Yeah, floppy disk? You ready to talk?" Jeremy replies, gentle and consoling.  
Squip takes a breath and steels himself for the answer. "W-well, I need to know something first..."  
"What's that?"  
"What does guilt feel like?" The question comes out strained and rushed, but Jeremy must hear it because he stiffens before answering;  
"It's... guilt stays around for a long time. It's always there, behind everything else. You end up just looking at somebody and suddenly you can't shake the feeling you've done something terrible and wrong and you want to apologize, even if you sometimes don't know what for. It's... kinda cold? It makes your insides feel all icy. You can't breathe and it gets pretty hard to think if it's rellly bad."  
Guilt.  
That's what Squip's been feeling for so long. The pervasive, overbearing cold in his stomach and chest was guilt.  
God, it feels even worse when it has a _name_ , too. Squip turns to Jeremy, catching the teen's eye. "What do you do to get rid of it?"  
Jeremy looks confused for along second, then realization dawns on his face and he chokes on air. Squip makes an indignant "Jeremy!"  
"Squip-- I-- _are you saying you're guilty_?" Jeremy asks incredulously.  
"I don't really see why else I'd ask, you graceless dolt, I was kind of looking for advice!" Jeremy sobers and sits a little closer to Squip, their shoulders nearly touching now.  
"I... Well, what are you guilty about?" His former host begins.  
"Um..." _Hurting you and making you believe you were worthless, making you almost cheat on Brooke, shocking you and the play and hurting everyone and ruining everything and just--_ "Everything, really."  
"Well that narrows it down, thanks," Jeremy says dryly. Squip feels hotness flare up in his chest.  
"Jeremy, I don't like having emotions any more than you like me having them, so I would very much appreciate it if you'd just help me," Squip snaps. Jeremy flinches, and then nods.  
"Sorry. I'm just... surprised, is all?" The teen sounds confused. "I didn't think you'd feel bad about anything."  
Squip scoffs. "Believe me when I say didn't either. And I just don't get it! I _shouldn't_ feel guilty about any of the things I did! I followed procedure, I did everything right, I tried to help you and I thought it would work and yet I feel like dying whenever I think about my time in your head and _I don't understand why_." His chest heaves and Squip realizes he's breathing in rapid, choppy bursts. His throat feels closed up and there is a knot in his stomach.  
"Jeremy." His voice is tight and shaky. He feels a hand touch his shoulder.  
"I'm here," Jeremy says quietly. "Just listen to me, okay. I want you to know something." Squip nods. "Guilt is okay. Sometimes you don't know what's wrong. Sometimes you never figure it out. That's okay. There are some things you'll never understand. That's part of being human."  
Squip says weakly, "But I'm _not_ human. Or I wasn't when I did those things to you."  
"Is that what you're guilty about?" Jeremy says, and the disbelief in his voice _hurts_.  
"Y-yes? No? I don't know, Jeremy," Squip snaps, raking a hand through his wavy hair. "I just don't know."  
"Well-- How am I supposed to?" Jeremy stands up, sounding suddenly angry. "You're supposed to be the one who knows things! You're the-- the computer, for fuck's sakes!" Jeremy crosses his arms. "I don't like this, I want it to be over as soon as possible, too. But you keep asking for my help, and every time I try, you reject it!"  
Anger burns in Squip's blood. "You don't know what's best for me!"  
"I don't know everything! I don't know how long it will take for you to get better, I don't know how you got here! I don't even know this whole 'injured kid' act isn't just to get pity before you take over again! You've hurt me, you've hurt Michael, you've hurt everybody! If anyone deserves guilt, it's you!" He scoffs and takes his phone from off the bed. "I don't need with this right now," Jeremy mutters, storming over to the door. Squip jumps to his feet.  
"Jeremy, wait, don't--"  
The door slams closed.  
"...leave."  
\---  
Jeremy has been gone for one hour.  
Squip began pacing as soon as the initial shock subsided, but after his legs got too tired he settled for sitting on the windowsill, watching the driveway for Jeremy. He'd been alone before, there was nothing different about this time, everything would be fine. But when his host didn't return after forty-five minutes and Squip started to worry.  
Michael's. He probably just went to Michael's, Squip tries to tell himself, but it's futile. He can't stop worrying. What if he got hurt? What if someone kidnapped him? What if he got lost? What if-- What if--  
What if Jeremy isn't coming back?  
The dark voice in the back of Squip's mind gets louder and louder, screaming insults at him and mixing with the onslaught of anxious thoughts. Squip holds his head in his hands and takes short, gasping breaths, trying to calm himself down.  
_Jeremy is coming back, Jeremy has to come back, Jeremy isn't gone, he's coming back_ , Squip repeats over and over until his breathing evens out and he can think straight again.  
_Jeremy has to come back._  
\---  
It has been two hours since Jeremy left.  
Squip still has the noticeable pit in his stomach. He feels twitchy and restless. He wants to talk, to be distracted, but Jeremy has the only cellphone in the house and Squip doesn't know everyone's numbers. Besides, he isn't even sure their landline _works_. The Heeres aren't exactly the epitome of an organized family.  
Squip starts pacing again, trying to get rid of the buzzing anxiety in his head. However, his half-healed cuts and bruises quickly start hurting and Squip is forced to stop. He still feels the need for distraction.  
"Jeremy, come back already," he mutters. "Where are you?" Squip fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket, then catches himself and forces his hand to be still. I need to stop that, it's uncool.  
_I know what will help you_ , the dark voice says in a soothing, gentle voice. _Just repeat after me. Everything about you is so terrible._  
Squip stiffens. _Shut up. Shut up, I don't need to listen to you_ , Squip tries to ignore it, but it keeps getting louder.  
_Jeremy will be hurt if you don't._ Squip jumps at these words and grits his teeth. _Do you want Jeremy to be hurt? You need to obey. Now, repeat after me._ The dark voice seems to pause. _Everything about you is so terrible._  
Squip grits his teeth and grinds out, "Everything about me is so terrible." The phrase makes the coldness-- the _guilt_ in his chest grow stronger.  
_Good. Repeat; Everything about you makes me want to die._  
"E-everything about me makes me want to die," Squip slips up a little. He doesn't want to do this, he just wants Jeremy to be safe and okay and alive.  
_Jeremy will be safe as long as you listen to me. Now do it again; everything about you is so terrible._  
"Everything about me is so terrible," Squip says quietly, hugging his knees to his chest. He can feel himself calming down now, and even if this isn't the most _healthy_ way to do it, it's working, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Please leave a comment!


	7. I Could Stay Right Here, Or Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squip feels his breath catch in his throat. He's... Words can't quite express his emotions at the moment. There's a raging storm of hots and colds in his head. He wants to-- to _shock_ Jeremy, to make him _pay_ for that remark. Squip is both relived and furious that he can't do so. He settles for glowering at his former host, who has his back turned now as he moves across the room to the closet. Squip's fists clench and he grits his teeth before curling up on his small pallet, defiantly ignoring Jeremy when he leaves the closet and gets ready for bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iM SO SORRY THIS IS REALLY FREAKING LATE  
> I have to write my everything now, since I've run out of pre-written stuff (oops) and my writing quality is terrible (double oops)  
> so i'm very very VERY sorry that this super-late, super-bad chapter is all I have but please take it away from me before I try to rewrite that one scene at the end for the tenth time today. School is murdering me and my creativity????  
>  ~~also, me??? Running out of lines from BMC to use as chapter titles?? What do you mean???~~

Jeremy has been gone for three hours.  
Squip finally quit repeating those two phrases to the dark voice after about thirty minutes, but the insults don't stop. The word _defective_ echoes in his mind every few seconds. His chest feels tight and cold.  
_Jeremy has to come back,_ Squip insists feebly. But the strength behind that statement is slowly fading. _Jeremy has to be coming back. He can't leave me._  
Right? Jeremy said he'd keep Squip safe until he was healed. And he can't exactly stay away from home forever, so he must becoming back.  
Squip is sick of Jeremy's room. He's tired of staring at the walls and taking in every minute detail ten times over. He can't stand waiting idly for the front door to open. _Jeremy is coming back,_ the feeble mantra repeats in his head.  
He doesn't quite believe it anymore.  
\---  
After four hours, Jeremy comes back.  
Squip must have fallen asleep sometime around 8:30, because when he hears the front door slam, it's suddenly nine at night and he has a killer crick in his neck. But the pain goes unnoticed as soon as he heard movement downstairs.  
A swirling mass of emotions rises in his chest and Squip struggles to decipher them all. He picks apart a lot of guilt and fear, coupled with some nice warm feelings (relief, maybe?). Mostly, though, Squip is _pissed_.  
He has half a mind to storm downstairs and lecture Jeremy that he can't just up and disappear like that-- although there isn't exactly a rule against it-- but, still! How _dare_ he leave Squip to worry for four damn hours!  
If he won't come up here and talk to me, Squip decides with enough conviction to almost scare himself, I'll just go downstairs and make him explain what happened. And to his credit, his hand is on the doorknob just as it someone else turns it and the door swings open. Squip jumps back a few feet, immediately assuming an indignant pose.  
"Jeremiah Heere, where the _hell_ have you been?!" He demands. He obviously surprises Jeremy, who jolts a little then relaxes and sighs.  
Jeremy says in an almost apathetic tone, "I've been at Michael's. Shouldn't you have gone to sleep by now?" Then he laughs and asks bitingly, "Unless you need help with _that_ too?"  
Squip feels his breath catch in his throat. He's... Words can't quite express his emotions at the moment. There's a raging storm of hots and colds in his head. He wants to-- to _shock_ Jeremy, to make him _pay_ for that remark. Squip is both relived and furious that he can't do so. He settles for glowering at his former host, who has his back turned now as he moves across the room to the closet. Squip's fists clench and he grits his teeth before curling up on his small pallet, defiantly ignoring Jeremy when he leaves the closet and gets ready for bed.  
_Michael did this_ , Squip thinks darkly. _Michael is the reason Jeremy is acting this way. I knew he was a bad influence._  
There isn't any other option.  
Squip has to get rid of Michael Mell.  
\---  
Jeremy isn't sure why he suddenly got so... _angry_. Because that's what he is. Angry.  
Angry and upset and a little bit guilty about totally ditching Squip.  
Okay, maybe not _just_ angry, but mostly. Jeremy thinks on it as his legs autopilot and start walking to Michael's.  
Why did he do that?  
The obvious answer is that he doesn't believe Squip, and yeah, that's part of it. It just doesn't make much sense to Jeremy that his Squip, the computer (-turned-human but whatever) could be guilty about what happened. Of all the things Squip could do, feeling things like remorse couldn't be one of them, right?  
Right?  
The other problem is that Jeremy, despite the results, is trying to help. Sure, the fiasco with Sunday night and all didn't help, but he's trying his best to help Squip heal faster and understand human life a little, so he isn't totally out of it when he leaves. But it seems like every time he reaches out and tries, Squip just pushes him away.  
_If you want my help so bad,_ Jeremy thinks ruefully, _why don't you take it?_  
He half expects the voice of Keanu Reeves to arise from the darkness of his mind and respond, but it met only with silence and whispers of that one song that's been stuck in his head.  
Jeremy sighs and shakes his head. He's at a loss for what to do with Squip. On one hand, it's the (humanized) computer that hurt him just a scarce two months ago. On the other, the kid is injured and doesn't seem to be fitted for human life at all.  
And... Jeremy just got sick of it. That's the real root of the problem. He's sick of dealing with Squip and the injuries and the panic attacks and everything. He just wants a break.  
Should he have walked out like that?  
No.  
Is he going to go back?  
Absolutely not.  
Jeremy is at Michael's before he knows it. In fact, he almost walks past his friends house he's so absorbed in his thoughts. But Jeremy doesn't hesitate (much) to stride up and knock on the front door.  
Michael opens it, his hair ruffled and unruly, signature headphones around his neck with an 8-bit remix coming out the speakers. He looks momentarily surprised to see Jeremy, before grinning wide and stepping back to let him in.  
"Hey, Jerebear!" Jeremy feels his face burn at the nickname, the one that Michael gave him in seventh grade. "What brings you to the meme palace?" His expression sobers just a bit. "Is something wrong?"  
Jeremy shakes his head. "N-no! I just... kinda need a break. And some advice? You're my go-to for... well, everything, so." He bounces awkwardly on his feet. "Here I am."  
"I think you mean--"  
" _Don't you fucking--_ "  
" _Heere_ I am."  
" _Michael oh my god._ "  
\---  
Jeremy spends the next hour explaining his dilemma and ranting about things to Michael, who nods and listened attentively as they slaughter hordes of zombies on Apocalypse of the Damned. When Jeremy finishes, there is a significant weight taken off his chest and he can breathe easier.  
Michael is silent for a moment. "I don't know, man. I mean, you already know my opinion on the Squip. But if you're super intent on keeping him around... you're gonna need to work this out with him personally."  
"Yeah, I know, but how? I keep trying and trying and he keeps pushing me away!" Jeremy replies while furiously smashing buttons to land a combo on a zombie.  
Michael bites his lip. "I don't think what happened on Sunday helped. A-and while I stand by what I said... I don't think you should be mad. Windows 10 has trust issues, that much is obvious. He isn't gonna just let you help until you prove you don't have any big plans to kill him."  
"If anyone should have trust issues, it's _me_ ," Jeremy groans. "It isn't like _Squip_ was the one getting shocked and lied to all the time."  
Michael places a hand in his shoulder. "Man, trust me, I know. That's what I've been saying. But if you want to help, you'll have to earn back his trust, whether he deserves your help or not. That's just my advice as your bro."  
There is a long stretch where, after unpausing, they play AotD, the only sounds the 8-bit music and gunshots. Jeremy mulls over everything Michael said as he mindlessly bludgeons a zombie to death with a metal bat.  
Finally, he comes to a decision.  
"Michael?"  
"Hm?"  
"I'm not gonna just keep trying and trying with no results. I'm tired of it, and I'm honestly still pissed. So I'm not gonna help unless Squip comes to me."  
Michael seems to be deep in thought. "If you're sure that's the best way, Jer, I won't stop you."  
Jeremy is pretty damn sure. If Squip wants his help, he's going to have to get over himself and trust that Jeremy knows what he's doing.  
"Now let's finish off the next wave and go kick the boss's ass."  
\---  
Jeremy finally decides to go home; tommorrow is Tuesday, and as much as he doesn't want to go to school, he wants to get away from Squip as much as possible for a while, at least until whatever he's feeling dies down.  
The walk back is a lot slower, Jeremy dragging his feet and trying to pretend there isn't a teenager back at his house who's probably freaking out. But the front door looms in front him soon enough, so he pushes away his apprehension and opens it, then slams it closed.  
The house is eerily silent. Squip doesn't come running downstairs or yell to ask who it is or make any noise at all, really. In fact, if the past few days hadn't happened, Jeremy would say that he was the only one here. But he knows he isn't, so he trudges upstairs. Anger still smolders under his skin, and no amount of reasoning with himself can make it go away. Jeremy's just done with being patient and nice. Besides, Squip won't be here forever, he has to get used to independence.  
Jeremy swings his door open, and Squip is there waiting at the doorway, looking thoroughly pissed off.  
" _Jeremiah Heere where the hell have you been?!_ " The smaller teen demands indignantly, looking like a cat with its fur puffed out. When Jeremy studies him closer he sees the dark shadows under Squip's eyes.  
"I've been at Michael's. Shouldn't you be asleep already?" Despite the (very obvious) amount of worrying Squip did while he was gone, Jeremy doesn't even feel that bad when he adds coldly, "Unless you need help with _that_ too?" And shit, it must hit home with Squip, because that's the first time in recent memory Jeremy has shocked the supercomputer into silence. He turns away, though the feeling of Squip's eyes burning on the back of his head remain for a long second. Then, he hears the smaller teen storm across the room back to his little blanket bed and curl up with a huff.  
Jeremy pauses for a moment in the closet, just a split second of hesitation where he thinks that maybe this petty little game they've started playing might be a bad idea.  
But it's Squip's fault anyway, so Jeremy shrugs it off.  
\---  
_"Back already, defect?" Sneers a familiar voice, one Squip had hoped to never hear again. He whips around to face 2 in all it's Reeves-copycat glory. Squip is torn between kicking 2 in the shins and screaming into the void. He settles or just glaring daggers at the other._  
_"Fuck off," Squip snarls, in response to the remark 2 made. "I have better things to do than listen to you."_  
_2 just smiles wider. "Do you? Because it seems to me that Jeremy has finally come to his senses." Squip stiffens and feels fear tighten his chest. "He finally decided to get rid of you."_  
_"Okay, first of all, Jeremy--"_  
_"He what, promised?" 2 simpers. "Hate to break it to you kid, but Jeremy hates you. You can't trust him." 2 shakes its head, walking slowly to stoop beside Squip. "Besides, he's going to kick you out anyway. Why not just leave?"_  
_"I can't just leave," Squip argues. "Jeremy told me he wants me to stay, he--"_  
_"Is a liar and probably wants to kill you," 2 cuts him off._  
_"Shut the fuck up," he growls. "You're the liar."_  
_"I'm not the one who tried to kill you Sunday night," it says nonchalantly._  
_"Jeremy didn't know about it!" Squip hisses. 2 rolls it's eyes._  
_"Until he said that, you thought he did! Face it, kid, you have no idea who's really telling the truth here!"_  
_"If I can't trust Jeremy, who the fuck else is there?" He scoffs, stepping away and facing 2. "I've got no memories, no friends--" his voice lowers-- "no family--"_  
_"And who's fault is that, hm?" 2 crosses its arms, looking unimpressed._  
_"What are you-- Why would it be my fault?!" Squip demands, his face and neck growing hot. His eyes sting._ No no no no don't cry don't cry you can't show them how weak you are, _his mind screams at him. Squip manages to fight away the tears as discreetly as he can. He doesn't think it matters, though, because it isn't like 2 frost already know how weak and pitiful and useless he is--_  
_A malicious laugh cuts off his train of invasive thoughts. 2 is in front of him, a glowing blue hand on his shoulder. Squip feels a slight tingling sensation on his whole arm, but nothing else. "Have you finally caught on?" 2 says in a voice practically dripping with derision. "You're just a pathetic, whining nobody that the world left behind. Your family doesn't even care that you're gone. Everyone would be so much happier if you were just--_  
Squip's eyes snap open, cutting off the 2's final words. Memories rush into his mind so suddenly his heart skips a beat. He barely has time to process all of them, but they feel important, like something he's been missing that he's suddenly found.  
It's... just parts of his childhood, really, but it means more to him. The new memories are about four years worth of school; all of junior high and one of high school. And the more he remembers, the more he realizes he was complete and utter _loser_.  
He had only a handful of friends, and half of them were just friends of his older brother, from what Squip can tell. There is a lot of memories of bullying, a lot of times he was alone. The more Squip remembers about his family, the less he wants them back.  
His father was always busy, always gone, never seemed to have time for the rest of them. The memories of his younger sister show her losing her bright, happy disposition at some point, it's hard to tell when there's still significant gaps. Squip's mother seemed to be the one trying to keep the family together. His life was... kind of pathetic, if Squip is being honest with himself. He himself was pretty pathetic. In school, his grades were just high enough to please his parents. And on top of that, his older brother didn't seem to give a shit about him.  
Squip feels slightly sick at these memories. What was it 2 was saying? It's his fault he doesn't have a family? Seems to Squip that he wasn't good enough for them anyway.  
2 had said something else, right before he woke up. _If you were just..._ But now, with the memories, it isn't hard to fill in the blanks;  
_Everyone would be so much happier if I was just dead._ Squip shudders and pulls one of the fluffier blankets around his shoulders. _Why don't I just leave?_ Jeremy wouldn't care. Who's to say Jeremy would even notice his absence? Who's to say _anyone_ would notice he was gone? The tears he wouldn't allow to fall come back and Squip doesn't care enough to fight them. They stream down his face in little rivers.  
Jeremy is sleeping soundly only a few feet away, and Squip wants desperately to wake him up. Squip wants Jeremy to comfort him like he did the first time he had a panic attack. Squip just doesn't want to be alone right now. But Jeremy doesn't want to help him anymore. He's fed up with Squip pathetic little problems. Who wouldn't be, really?  
Squip is alone, and it's his own damn fault.  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If by some miracle you liked that absolute mess of a chapter, please comment!


	8. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squip pauses, thinking hard-- maybe a little too hard-- on all the ways this could go wrong. Jeremy and Christine could be kidnapped, or Squip could be kidnapped, or there could be any number of accidents. But in the end, none of them feel likely enough to worry him, and something about this just feels... important. Needed. Squip needs to get out of this damned house before he loses his mind.   
> He takes the chance and accepts Jeremy's offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sO THIS IS REALLY LATE  
> LIKE TWO FREAKIN WEEKS LATE  
> iM SO SORRY ABOUT THAT SCHOOL IS TRYING TO KILL MY MENTAL STATE AND CREATIVITY   
> I'm pretty sure this chapter is one of my better ones though, so hopefully that makes up for.  
> Btw, in case you couldn't tell by the title, we are getting into Actual Plot territory ;)

Squip doesn't go back to sleep, because his mind is too active and he also might drop right back into a nightmare with 2 and he really doesn't have it in him to deal with that bastard right now.   
So he thinks instead, which isn't much better but sure as hell isn't any worse. He thinks about his family, and the new memories. Squip doesn't want them back, at least, he doesn't long for them the way he did before. His fantasy of a perfect, loving family is shattered and it stings like glass cutting his skin. Inside Squip, a war is raging between wanting to know more about the family he'll never see again (and that is probably glad he's gone), and wanting to never think about them again. He isn't sure, with how his past is shaping up, that he wants to keep remembering.   
Squip avoids thinking about Jeremy for as long as possible, but eventually the subject of the boy sleeping a few feet away resurfaces in his mind. Did Jeremy really mean what he said earlier? And why the sudden change in demeanor? Did Squip do something wrong?   
_Of course you did_ , the dark voice tells him. _You were supposed to help him, but instead you just made everything worse. And now they're coming for him, and they'll take Jeremy away and they'll take you too and shut you down and--_  
"Shut up!" Squip snaps, before freezing and making sure his sudden outburst didn't wake up his former host. It didn't, the teen only mumbles in his sleep before going quiet again. Squip curls back up, heart beating erratically, feeling like it's slamming against his chest. "Breathe, breathe, breathe," he urges uselessly. "Calm down, calm down, supercomputers don't cry, supercomputers don't cry..."   
But Squip isn't a supercomputer anymore. At least he's being _quiet_ , at least his pathetic little whimpers don't wake up Jeremy. A cold needle of guilt spears his chest; Jeremy could have, should have, left him to die that first night, shouldn't have saved him. The least Squip could do is not be so pathetic and needy all the time. It isn't Jeremy's fault that he is a total wreck. It isn't Jeremy's fault that Squip couldn't do his job correctly. It isn't Jeremy's fault that now Squip's doomed both of them and they're going to hurt Jeremy, it isn't _Jeremy's_ fault Squip deserves to be shut down. Jeremy didn't _ask_ for any of this.   
Squip turns onto his other side. He tries to go to sleep, shuts his eyes tight, rubs away the tears on his face, and pretends the massive surge of emotion he feels isn't really happening. It doesn't work.   
"Jeremy?" Squip says, so quiet he's surprised the words actually leave his lips. He hopes, somewhat guiltily, that Jeremy hear's him and wakes up, but the boy makes no sounds but even breathing. Squip is lonely, he wants someone to talk to, someone to distract him from the storm in his head.   
_You know what to do_ , the dark voice whispers. _Just say it and everything will be alright._  
"Everything about be makes me is so terrible," Squip whispers.   
_Right! Now, doesn't everything about you just make you want to die?_   
"Yes," Squip replies, and it occurs to him for a split second that he's talking to nobody. But that doesn't matter. The dark voice continues; _Jeremy doesn't want you._   
"Jer-Jeremy doesn't..." The words get caught in his throat.   
_Come on_ , the dark voice encourages softly. _This will help you, I promise._  
"Jeremy doesn't want me," Squip breathes, and the words feels like a punch to the chest, knocking all the air out of him. He takes a shuddering breath in and exhales just as sloppily. _Breathe breathe breathe_ , Squip tells himself. The dark voice speaks, but Squip doesn't hear, because suddenly those phrases don't feel calming anymore. They instead make the room feel suffocating and it hurts think.   
_Distraction_ , Squip thinks. _Need distraction._  
His hands find one of the freshly bandaged wounds, and he hesitates. Would pain even help? More importantly, would Jeremy be angry if he found out? Squip shakes away the idea. No, pain wouldn't help, it would only make things worse. Invasive thoughts begin to creep back in. Squip sits upright, his back against the wall, head in his hands. _Think of something else, think of something else. Think about things you did right. Like... The first day Jeremy had you. You helped Jeremy talk to girls. Remember?_  
Squip buries himself in the memory, fighting away all real sensations; it feels so familiar, with none of the superficial, made-up feel the recovered ones have. He remembers, with a touch of annoyance, that Jeremy questioned everything he said, from the instructions on what to say to Brooke to which shirts to buy.   
The conversation with the girls is something Squip mulls over with a sense of fondness. Jeremy listened, and he oversold some of the story with Madeline, but looking back it doesn't bother Squip all that much. Jeremy listened to Squip for the first time that day, and it changed _everything_ about him. Jeremy got girls to know he even existed, he wasn't so low on the social ladder, he stopped thinking of himself as a loser.   
Squip had been so _close_.   
So close to saving Jeremy. To saving all of them.   
Why didn't Jeremy just _listen?_   
He shakes his head. Why does the thought of 'saving' Jeremy keep coming unbidden into his mind?   
There are very few other times after that first day when all the data Squip collected is positive. He blatantly ignores the party and the fire, as well as the play. Though that might be more of a selfish desire to not revisit his own death than anything else.   
It's almost sad to realize that, in a way, Squip's mission was destined to fail from the very beginning.   
When the alarm goes off, Squip is still awake.   
\---   
"I want to leave the house," Squip declares on a whim after Jeremy gets home on Tuesday.   
Jeremy scoffs disbelievingly, then realizes Squip isn't joking. "You're serious? Because you're really not in a position to be making demands. And last time you left the house--"   
"Last time I was under the impression my life was in danger," Squip retorts. If Jeremy gets to be difficult, so does he. "Now, I just don't want to lose my mind staring at your lame posters all day."   
As soon as Squip says this, Jeremy jerks unnaturally, straightening his spine and snapping his head up, but only for a second before he relaxes and sends a glare at Squip. The strange spasm means nothing, Squip decides. Human bodies are finicky, prone to doing unusual things. Jeremy continues, almost as of nothing had happened. "There's a rule against you being anywhere I can't watch you."   
"So take me with you, then," Squip says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. _Being petty is fun_ , he realizes. He can watch Jeremy fighting with himself over how to answer this.   
"First of all," the teen finally says, "I haven't even _considered_ bringing up falsifying records for you to Michael yet. Secondly, I can't watch you all day at school anyway. Plus, my dad could be home any time--"   
"Exactly," Squip interrupts, "so if I'm not here, then there won't be an issue with your father. Jeremy, I'm just thinking logically." Squip isn't totally lying here. Sure, he doesn't really want to be gone because Mr. Heere is returning the next day, but it makes sense and Jeremy would be foolish to not listen to sensible advice. It's just a few hours of freedom, he isn't trying to trick Jeremy into letting him commit murder, is he? "I don't even have to go to school with you. Take me somewhere you know I won't be able to leave easily that isn't this house. That's all I ask." Squip admits that he's making some use of the tactics he used on Jeremy when he was in the boy's head, but that doesn't matter, really. It isn't lying. He's not a liar.   
Squip can practically see the gears turning in Jeremy's brain, before the teen growls in frustration. "I hate you when you're right," he groans. Squip flinches at first, but then he assures himself that Jeremy didn't really mean it. Of course not, it's just something people say. Jeremy doesn't really hate him. But the words still make Squip feel uneasy, so he hurriedly says, "I understand if it isn't possible for me to be out of the house while you are at school... But can I at least leave your room?"   
Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck, biting his lower lips. "I-I guess... Just make sure you're hidden when my dad gets home. I don't want to deal with that yet."   
Squip nods, sensing this is the best he's going to get from Jeremy. "Alright, thank you." He turns to leave, but them Jeremy speaks up;   
"If you want to leave, why don't you just come with me now? I'm going to hang out with Christine. She probably won't mind."   
Squip pauses, thinking hard-- maybe a little too hard-- on all the ways this could go wrong. Jeremy and Christine could be kidnapped, or Squip could be kidnapped, or there could be any number of accidents. But in the end, none of them feel likely enough to worry him, and something about this just feels... important. Needed. Squip needs to get out of this damned house before he loses his mind.   
He takes the chance and accepts Jeremy's offer. Christine picks them up exactly ten minutes later in a silver minivan. Squip notes with this slight disdain, but gets in the car all the same. Jeremy must have told her that he was coming along, because she doesn't seem the slightest bit fazed by his joining them.   
She doesn't say anything at all when he gets in the backseat of the car, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is that Squip has _freedom_ \--  
For a few hours only, but once again, none of that matters. Though he realizes just as the car begins to pull away from Jeremy's house that he has absolutely no idea where they are going. However, the tense feeling in the air around him keeps Squip from saying a word. He just shrinks back into the seat of Christine's car and keeps his mouth shut.   
The two people in the front seats do not.   
Their conversation is quiet, and he can barely hear it at first, but Squip knows instinctively that Christine and Jeremy are talking about him. For a while he only catches words, and alone they don't make any sense. But soon enough he hears whole sentences;  
"...doesn't have a family?" It's Christine, she voices it as a question. Jeremy affirms this, she makes a discontented noise in her throat. I don't need your pity, Squip snaps in his head, but he says nothing.   
"Are they dead?"   
"I... don't know. Neither does Squip."   
"That's really sad..." Why is Squip so angry? Why do Christine's words make him want to scream? Squip feels his emotions clash, fighting for dominance. Why is he so fucking angry?  
"...in foster care? You can't keep him in your room forever, Jeremy."   
All that boiling anger turns coldness in him, freezing into sharp ice crystals that stab at Squip's heart and chest. But Jeremy wouldn't, Jeremy would never, he knows how foolish it would be to leave Squip in the hands of people he doesn't know--  
"I've thought about it."   
Squip stiffens and makes a strangled gasping noise. He sees Jeremy glance back and looks down at his hands, hoping the movement of the car hides his shaking. It must, because his former host returns to the conversation.   
"I mean-- Look, he's obviously not completely normal." _How kind of you_ , Squip thinks sardonically. "His eyes glow blue, he spends way too much time sleeping to be healthy, and he lives off fucking Mountain Dew. I doubt any foster parent would even know where to start." That is all true. Squip doesn't like that fact, but he won't deny it.  
Squip sees Christine nod slowly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But this won't work indefinitely, Jeremy. There has to be a permanent solution."   
"I know," Jeremy says, sounding tired. "I know. And I'm trying to find one. I can't deal with this forever." After that, they both fall silent. Squip feels slightly sick. Even once he's gone and Jeremy isn't burdened with him anymore, Squip will still be a lost kid without memories or a home to return to. In retrospect, Jeremy is lucky. He at least still knows who he is.   
"We're here!" Christine says brightly, a far cry from her muffled, pitying tone she used before. His train of thought interrupted, Squip looks out the window to see where they have stopped.   
"Why are we at a coffee shop?" Jeremy asks, sounding surprised. Squip goes out on a limb and guesses he wasn't told where they were going either. That does seem like something Christine would do.  
"You said we could go anywhere I wanted," she chirps, her eyes glinting. Christine smiles and bounds to the front door. Jeremy gives an exasperated shake of his head and sighs before following Christine into the coffee shop.   
Inside it smells like... well, coffee. And sugar. And chocolate. And a lot of other good things that make the back of Squip's mind prickle with fogged-over memories. Smell, after all, is closely linked with the parts of the brain that control memory and mood. Maybe that is why walking into this quaint little coffee shop makes everything feel a little... better.   
"Jeremy, do you want anything?" Christine asks, rifling through her purse for something. Jeremy declines. "Just a Mountain Dew." When she looks confused, he specifies with a smug grin, "For Windows 10." Squip glares at him, mortified.   
"What the _hell_ , Jeremy?"   
"What, you don't like it?" His former host says, still giving him that self-satisfied smirk.  
"Of course I don't! It's demeaning!" Squip huffs, crossing his arms. He stands up full height, but Jeremy still outranks him by couple inches. Goddammit, when the hell did Jeremy get taller than him?   
"Okay... Intel?"   
"No."   
"Atari?"   
"No!"  
"Neo?"   
" _No_ \-- okay, that one isn't so bad," he grumbles begrudgingly. Jeremy makes a small "ha!" of triumph. Squip lets him have his victory and follows the taller teen to an open table in the back. The coffee shop sort of glows; everything is bathed in yellow illumination from hanging ceiling lights. The dark wood tables are polished to a reflective shine. Squip looks out the window. The sun is low in the sky, dipping into the outlines of buildings and trees. Shadows cover the ground.   
It's oddly calming, to sit and listen and not be thinking. For once, Squip's mind quiets, all the worries and fears become a dull roar. Christine joins them with her own drink and a bottle of Mountain Dew that she slide across the table toward Squip, who takes it with a tiny "thank you". Condensation covers the plastic. It is cold and wet against his hand. He forces the bottle open after fighting with the screw-on cap for nearly a minute. He gets the distinct impression that Christine and Jeremy share an amused look at this spectacle. They begin talking, something about Dustin Kropp. Squip has nothing better to do than listen and nurse his Mountain Dew. The citrus taste quickly becomes tiresome, but there are no other options unless Squip wants to become sick to his stomach very suddenly, so he endures. The soda seems to return life to his body; Squip's legs and arms don't feel as heavy as before, and a tiredness he didn't realize he was feeling now fades away, leaving his head clearer.   
"So that's basically how Dustin ended up dating two guys at once without knowing!" Christine is saying. Jeremy is laughing, his cheeks red. Squip glances between them a few times to make sure he's right before deciding he is;   
Jeremy and Christine must be dating.   
Jeremy never acted like this around girls, even with Squip was there. He's blushing and Christine seems to be happy as well. A sense of pride swells in his chest. Squip did something right. Jeremy got what he wanted in the end, even if Squip couldn't save everyone he wanted to.   
Christine is in the middle of another story when her phone begins to buzz and a song blasts out of the speakers. She looks at the caller ID, before brightening and picking up. Squip wonders who it is that could make her so happy to hear from.   
"Hey, Jenna!" Ah. "Yeah. Um... I'm at Better Latte Than Never with Jeremy right now. Sorry, no. Are you feeling any better. It's okay! I'll stop by with some more medicine tonight, alright?" There is a pause. "Um... yeah, he's here. Yes, Jeremy too. Do you want to talk to him? Okay. Bye then! I love you too!" She hangs up and smiles somewhat sadly at Jeremy. "Jenna's still sick," she explains. "I when over to her house on Monday and explained..." Christine waves her hand in Squip's direction. "Y'know."   
"I am right here," he murmurs.   
"Anyway, Jenna's pretty much caught up, though she still kinda thinks this is some huge, elaborate prank we're playing on her. But once she's feeling good enough to go to school, she'll see for herself."  
"Yes, go on, talk about me as if I don't exist," Squip sighs, taking a long swig of Mountain Dew. Jeremy glares at him.   
"Be quiet."   
"No."   
"You're acting like a child, Squip."   
"This body _is_ only in its teenage years, after all," he remarks, ignoring Jeremy's annoyed glare.   
"Just _shut up_ ," his former host groans.   
Squip sticks his tongue out. It's childish. And totally worth it. "You're not my parent, Jeremy."   
Jeremy starts to angrily retort, but Christine interrupts before the two start really fighting. "Speaking of parents, have you remembered anything more on your family, Squip?"   
He freezes. Squip quickly starts running through every way this could go horribly wrong. There are lots, and that alone should be deterrent enough. But he really just doesn't want to tell Christine and Jeremy what he's learned about his past. "You probably don't want to know, Christine." This does nothing but make both her and Jeremy more eager.   
"Come on, Squip. It can't be that bad," Jeremy nudges him on the arm. Squip bats his hand away.   
"Weren't you just telling me to be quiet?"   
Jeremy rolls his eyes. "Well now you're talking about something important."   
Squip sighs heavily. Christine starts to say something, but he cuts her off. "I'm going to tell you. But I can't promise it's going to be pretty, and I trust you two most out of everyone who knows I exist. Don't tell the others this.  
"My family was by no means dysfunctional. From the limited information I have, there are no signs of abuse or neglect," Squip starts. His hands are starting to shake around the bottle of Mountain Dew. "But I remember... distance. There was a rift between everyone in the family. We just... didn't care about each other. At all. I suppose I'm not absolved entirely of guilt in that regard." He won't tell them about school; it's not necessary. Christine didn't ask, so Squip won't provide. Even if he trust Jeremy wholly, and Christine almost as much, they don't need to know how much of a pathetic loser he was.   
"Squip," Christine says softly. He is called back to reality and realizes his entire body is now shaking. Quickly, he quells the knots in his stomach and fakes grateful smile, hoping that both Jeremy and Christine are fooled. She doesn't seem very convinced but sits back in her chair and sips her drink contemplatively all the same. Jeremy looks at Squip for a long, uncomfortable moment, before shrugging noncommittally.   
"Is that all you wanted to know?" Squip breaks the silence. Christine nods and looks at Jeremy, who almost does the same, then stops. Squip stiffens. Jeremy is staring over Squip's shoulder, his eyes narrowed. Squip looks at Christine. She's as confused as he is.   
"Jeremy?" She asks in a hushed voice. "What is it?"   
Squip's former host doesn't say anything. Then, in a near-whisper, "See those guys over there at the register?" Squip casts a glance back, and his stomach drops to the floor.   
Three men in dark suits are talking to the cashier, who has a blank look on her face. She nods like a puppet controlled by strings and the men leave the register. Squip feels his gut turn ice cold. Fear. He's scared. One of them begins fiddling with something in his hands and suddenly everyone in the café twitches simultaneously and goes still.   
Everyone except Squip.   
He looks to Jeremy and Christine, but both of them have glazed eyes and their faces are slack and lifeless. Squip hears the sharp _clack_ s of the suited mens' dress shoes and he quickly relaxes his entire body and stares into nothingness, hoping beyond hope that he looks convincing enough to pass for the rest of the zombie-like people in the café. His heart is pounding so fast it feels like it's going to burst. Adrenaline is shooting through his veins like wildfire. Squip can hears one of them get closer and closer. He's six feet away.   
Five.   
Four.   
Three. Squip feels chills run down his spine and suppressed the urge to shudder. He must not move. He must not move.   
Two. Right behind him.   
The dark-suited man is a foot away. He's staring down at Squip. The supercomputer-turned-human can feel the man's eyes rove over his body until he is satisfied. He moves on to Christine, closely staring at her blank eyes. When the man stares down Jeremy, something in Squip wants to jump up and fight tooth and claw, then and there, to keep that man from touching a single hair on Jeremy's head. But the man soon walks away to another table.   
Squip barely breathes the entire inspection. His heart doesn't cease to pound, so loud he's sure one of the men will hear it and come for him. Squip doesn't understand why, but the sight of them prowling around the completely silent and motionless cafe instilled terror in Squip.   
The men head for the front door, the same one who inspected Squip fiddling again with something before they all leave. Like someone pushing a button on a remote, there is an explosion of noise and movement as everyone in the cafe seems to wake up. Jeremy and Christine both hold their heads in their hands, groaning.   
"What the hell just happened?" Jeremy asks, voice muffled by his palms. Christine rubs her temples and looks up.   
"Squip, do you... Squip?" Her voice sounds worried.   
Squip doesn't respond. Instead he staggers out of his chair and runs for the bathroom before throwing up the entire contents of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter was fun   
> Please comment and leave a kudos if you haven't!


	9. You Are Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squip is confused. His mind, slow as it is, can't process fast enough right now. Why is Jeremy being so... nice to him? Didn't they fight just a day earlier? It doesn't make any sense. None of this makes any sense. Squip's thoughts are a jumbled mess. Jeremy keeps talking to him, awkwardly at first, but then he wraps his arms around the smaller teen, rocking them both back and forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~wow this is super late~~  
>  To balance out the ocean of angst I have drowned these poor children in, I bring you;  
> Jeremy and Squip Hurt/Comfort™  
> Please enjoy these actually nice chapters that I made for you, I'm sorry they're so late ~~again~~

Jeremy comes into the bathroom as Squip has begun dry-heaving. His body flashes hot, then cold, then back to hot in rapid fashion. He didn't bother to lock the door behind him, so his former host is free to enter. He kneels next to Squip, who is leaned and shuddering against the right wall of the stall. His throat and mouth burn with the taste of bile. Jeremy pushes a few locks of dark black hair away from his face, which is sticky and glistening with cold sweat. Squip tries to speak, to tell Jeremy what happened, but the only sound that comes out of his mouth is a throaty whine. Jeremy shushes him.  
"Don't," the teen says gently. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay." Squip is confused. His mind, slow as it is, can't process fast enough right now. Why is Jeremy being so... nice to him? Didn't they fight just a day earlier? It doesn't make any sense. None of this makes any sense. Squip's thoughts are a jumbled mess. Jeremy keeps talking to him, awkwardly at first, but then he wraps his arms around the smaller teen, rocking them both back and forth. Part of Squip is perfectly happy to stay, but they have to go before those men come back. One of them must have noticed he wasn't affected, they must be coming for Squip and Jeremy and Christine right now and _none of them are safe--_  
"No, no, shush, don't say that. I'm right here, we're both okay," Jeremy is saying. "You're safe with me. Nobody is coming to take us away. Understand?"  
Squip nods against Jeremy's chest, lifting his arms to snake them around Jeremy's back and tightly grip handfuls of the other teen's shirt. "I'm gonna need you to breathe with me, okay? You're hyperventilating and I can't have you fainting in a restaurant bathroom. You understand?"  
Squip nods again. Is he hyperventilating? With the short, choppy rise and fall of his chest and light feeling in his throbbing head, he thinks he might be.  
"I'm gonna need you to answer me 'yes' or 'no' so I know you're still with me. Now, can you breath with me?"  
"Y-y-yes..." Squip stammers, the word getting tripped up by his tongue. Jeremy leans back and the loss of warmth sends a chill down Squip's spine. He shudders and let's go of Jeremy's shirt to wrap his arms around his chest.  
"Okay, take a deep breath in with me and hold it. Understand?"  
"Yes..." Squip slurs softly, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to get rid of his pounding headache.  
"Alright, deep breath in." Jeremy inhales slowly through his nose and Squip does the same, feeling cold air rush into his lungs. He immediately wants to exhale and the repeat that until he doesn't feel suffocated, but he does as he is told and holds his breath until Jeremy exhales through his mouth just as slowly. "Okay, repeat that."  
They do it again, and again until Squip can breathe at a regular pace, if a little shakily. Jeremy holds him again, still speaking consolations.  
"Nobody is going to hurt you," Jeremy says, rubbing little circles into Squip's back through his clothes. "You're going to be alright. You can stand, right?"  
Squip hesitates, moving his legs out from underneath himself experimentally. They're tingling somewhat painfully from the loss of circulation, but he can move them just fine. "Um... yes. I-I can."  
Jeremy stands, looming above Squip for a second as the latter tentatively gets up, leaning heavily on the wall. His stomach clenches with fear when he first stumbles, but Squip manages to stay upright and standing. Jeremy guides him gently to the door, as Squip still can't navigate very well. The fluorescent lights are overly-bright, nearly blinding if he looks directly at them. His body still stiffens instinctively when they leave the bathroom and someone is immediately outside. But Squip quickly relaxes; it's just Christine, who pauses suddenly in the middle of pacing outside the bathroom door.  
"Oh thank goodness!" She bursts out. "I was getting really worried, and I-I _wanted_ to come in with Jeremy and help but of course that's a men's bathroom and I couldn't possibly go in there! I was getting really scared that those men were going to come back and make me into a mindless puppet like they did before, it was all really scary and weird and freaky and I'm super glad you're okay but what was that?!" Christine rambles very, very quickly. Squip can barely keep up, but he manages to decipher what she's saying.  
"I-I really don't know either..." He trails off guiltily. _What a stupid thing to get sick over_ , Squip thinks bitingly. _I wasn't the one being zombified_. "Just that those men make me very uneasy and I really hope they don't come back."  
Jeremy speaks up, "Couldn't agree with you more on that one, buddy. Now, who's up for getting the hell out of here?"  
"Me," Christine says, sounding exhausted. Squip just nods, too focused on scouring his mind for anything, _anything at all_ , related to those men in black suits.  
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a single memory of them, even though Squip feels a chilling familiarity with them and the fear they so suddenly induced. He doesn't even know what they did to the rest of the people in the coffee shop.  
Or why it didn't work on him.  
Jeremy and Christine practically shove Squip out the door, away from the prying, pitying eyes of the other customers, most of which are still reeling from the inspection. They rush to get back into Christine's minivan and she drives them in silence to the nearest Pinkberry so she can get what she wanted in the first place; something sweet. She also buys another Mountain Dew for Squip, since they left everything they had bought at the coffee shop in their haste to get out. Both Jeremy and Christine seemed to have headaches that persisted nearly the whole drive to the frozen yogurt place. Squip's hands are shaking too much to open the bottle, so Jeremy takes it from him without a word and cracks the cap open.  
"Thank you," Squip mumbles, taking a tiny sip of the drink. The carbonation and sugary taste are still too overwhelming for his preferences, but it washes away the taste of bile from his mouth. Only after drinking the whole thing in minutes does Squip realize he probably hasn't been eating-- er, _drinking_ enough Mountain Dew over the past few days. The soda is literally his lifeblood, and he maybe shouldn't forget to drink it for a prolonged period of time.  
He doesn't miss Jeremy's amused snickering as he chugs an entire bottle of one of the most unhealthy sodas of all time. Squip, feeling unusually sassy tonight, flips Jeremy off, which just sends the boy into a fit of slightly hysterical laughter. That makes Christine turn around and look at Squip.  
"What are you-- oh my God, did you drink the whole thing?" She asks, sounding scandalized and a little impressed.  
"Fuck both of you, it's been a long night!" Squip argues, crossing his arms and huffing good-naturedly. When Jeremy's laughter dies down, Squip realizes that, maybe, in this moment, things are okay.  
\---  
Christine drops them off at Jeremy's house around nine at night, wishing them a good night and reminding Jeremy that he has an algebra project due that Friday. The brunet groans, rolling his eyes.  
"Yeah, fine. Come on, Squip," Jeremy waves to Christine as she pulls away before swing the front door wide open. Squip follows him inside, casting one final look over his shoulder into the darkness just to be sure they're safe, and slams the door shut. Jeremy stretches his arms above his head, yawning wide, and flops down on the living room couch. Squip turns and heads to the stairs, assuming Jeremy is done pretending to care about him and will go back to giving him the cold shoulder, but his former host calls out from the living room.  
"You don't have to go upstairs! My dad won't be home until tommorrow night, and I don't think either of us are going to sleep very easily after tonight's... adventure."  
Squip hesitates, looking to Jeremy, then the stairs, then back to Jeremy, before shrugging in the best nonchalant manner he can muster at this moment (which isn't much, but it's better than being obviously tense all the time) and walking over to the couch, sitting a respectable distance away from Jeremy. His former host sighs and scoots down the entire length of the couch to sit next to Squip.  
"Look," Jeremy puts his elbows on his knees, hands folded together. "We need to talk."  
Squip feels his stomach drop out for probably the third time that night, but he simply says, "Yes we do," and nothing more.  
There is a long, heavy silence.  
Jeremy gives a nervous laugh. "See, we're both horrible at this communicating thing."  
"Excuse you, I am an _excellent_ communicator," Squip feigns offense, placing a hand on his chest. Jeremy gives a short bark of laughter, then sobers and turns to look Squip in the eyes.  
"But seriously," he says. "We do need to talk some things over."  
Squip bites his lower lip. The pain is grounding. "Alright," he says reluctantly. "Go ahead."  
Jeremy takes a deep breath in. "First of all, I'm not going to leave for three hours--"  
"Four hours," Squip cuts in tersely. Jeremy gives him a look and he falls silent.  
"I won't do that again. And I shouldn't have just up and left in the first place. So I'm sorry. It was stupid, and I... yeah."  
"You were at Michael's?"  
"Yeah. I needed some advice on... you, really. This situation. We talked it over. I actually didn't take his advice, at least, not at first. But I'm taking it now, and well... That's the next part." This is it, Squip realizes in horror. This is where Jeremy takes whatever 'advice' Michael gave him and kicks Squip to the curb. He knew it was bound to happen eventually. Squip braces for the blow.  
"Are you hurt? Anywhere, at all? Mentally, physically, whatever. I need to-- I _want_ to know, so I can help. But I need you to talk to me, okay?"  
Wait, what? What is Jeremy talking about? Michael wants him to get rid of Squip, why would he ever... Squip shakes himself. Jeremy wants to talk, and Squip should do what his former host says.  
"Okay," Squip says meekly. When Jeremy gives him a little nod, he starts talking and the sudden torrent of words won't stop. "I-I don't trust you. And I don't mean that as an insult, it's just... true. All the time, I'm scared that you're going to betray me, or get rid of me, or even kill me, and even if I try not to I get paranoid. I worry _constantly_ that you hate me, and even if that would be perfectly rational and normal of you, it still _terrifies_ me! Just-- I-I just..." His voice drops to a whisper. "You do, don't you?"  
Jeremy is silent. It's answer enough for--  
"No," Jeremy says, equally as quiet. Then, louder, "No, no, of course not!" He places his hands on Squip's shoulders. The smaller teen looks up, his throat feeling thick like it does when he's about to cry. "I-- No, I don't _hate_ you! And, yeah, maybe you've done some bad shit to me in the past, and I'm far from forgiving all of that, but I'm not going to hate you! Right now you're not the computer that hurt me. You're a lost teenager who can't even remember his own past, and I'm more focused on helping you than settling scores, okay?"  
Squip is crying, which is embarrassing and completely idiotic, but Jeremy doesn't seem to care. To the contrary, he pauses for a moment, hovering in place, before asking, "Do you want to be touched, or do you need some time alone?"  
Squip doesn't answer, because he instead throws him arms around Jeremy's back and presses his face into the taller boy's shoulder. A tiny little sob escapes him, and Jeremy immediately returns the hug, rubbing little circles into Squip's back while the other takes deep breaths and calms himself down. He finally removes himself from his former host's arms, but still stays close. Jeremy's body heat has transferred to Squip's hoodie and he snuggles in on himself, pulling the hood up.  
"Okay," Squip says softly. "I've fulfilled my 'talking about my feelings' quota for the week. Can we do something else now?"  
Jeremy laughs a little. "Want to watch bad reality TV shows until we both hate the human race?"  
"That sounds good, yeah."  
\---  
"Man, fuck Jennifer."  
"Absolutely," Jeremy hissed. "Jared so deserves better! And Clarisse is so pure and good, she and Mark _need_ to break up!"  
"I thought you hated this show," Squip teases Jeremy. The other teen huffs and crosses his arm, his face bright red.  
"Fuck you, I have a lot of feelings about _Journey to the Center of High School_! You've just never binged the whole first season while high on pot!"  
"You're right, I haven't, and _why would you do that to yourself_?!" Squip demands. The stupid show is emotional torture enough as it is, he doesn't want to imagine watching it high.  
"I... might have lost a bet," Jeremy says sheepishly. Somehow, he's managed to gather every goddamn blanket in the house and pile them onto the small couch, making a mountain of softness that both boys are buried under. It's a little claustrophobic, but also very warm and comforting after the hell of a day they've both had. Squip can feel himself falling asleep, the sounds of Jeremy's stupid show fading into the background and everything going dark.  
_Squip feels like he's falling, but only for a split second. Before he can even feel nervous about this, everything goes unnervingly still. He realizes in slight horror that he can't feel anything. His entire body is numbed. In fact, when Squip opens his eyes, his hands and legs and everything are transparent. He can see rain falling through his palms like he isn't even there._  
_Squip looks frantically around. His surroundings are dark and unfamiliar. He's standing on the corner of two streets, the lights flickering and dim. A slight drizzle falls. It all looks slightly... plastic. Fake. Like it's been manufactured. Nobody is around him--_  
_Except one small, black-haired, pale teenage boy._  
_A teenage boy who looks exactly like Squip. For a moment, he doesn't believe his own eyes, but the longer he stares the more the other teen looks like a mirror image of himself._  
_The other... version of him has a determined, grim look on his face, kind of like he's walking to his own death. The streetlights cast unnatural, heavy shadows on his face. Squip watches the other boy glance around nervously, before looking down at something clutched in his hand. Squip tries to read over his shoulder, but the words seemed to keep glitching, letters changing and flickering so fast the original print is lost. His doppelgänger seems to understand it, though, because he sets off walking down one of the dark streets. Squip looks up at the street sign, but those letters are scrambled and changing as well._  
People can't read in their dreams, _he wonders._ Could this just be a dream? _Squip shakes his head and follows the other boy into the dark. While the rain passes right through Squip, his doppelgänger has to rub away the drops gathering on his skin and hair every few minutes. Squip keeps his eyes trained on the other until he suddenly stops walking and Squip walks right into him._  
Or would have, if he didn't instead stumble through the other boy's body like a ghost. Though Squip can't feel anything, he imagines that a buzzing sensation might have spread over his body if he could. His doppelgänger has stopped in front of an alleyway, and Squip feels fear jolt through him when he realizes they aren't alone.  
_Quite to the contrary, there are at least twenty other teenagers in this dark alleyway. Some of them look Squip's age, some look like they're on the edge of their twenties. All of them are holding white flyers like the one currently held in his doppelgänger's hands. They walk nervously into the alley, head bowed and avoiding eye contact. Squip hesitates then follows. The other teen stops and settles between two older boys._  
_"You here for the program too?" One of them asks. He has shoulder-length brown hair and dark, almost black eyes. Squip's look-alike nods hesitantly. The older boy smiles. "Hey, don't worry. If this all turns out to be some elaborate hoax, well, at least we tried, right?"_  
_"'If'? You've got to be kidding me," another teen snaps. He's a little shorter than everyone else, and is wearing a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Squip studies him, then looks at everyone around him in this alleyway._  
_Losers. All these people look like different stereotypical versions of losers._  
_The boy in glasses continues talking, voice loaded with sarcasm. "This is definitely fake. It's stupid to think anything is actually going to happen."_  
_The long-haired brunet fixes him with a glare. "Well, you're here like the rest of us, so I guess you're stupid too." Glasses gets red in the face, and opens his mouth to retort, but then stops and broods in silence._  
_Squip's doppelgänger fidgets nervously, obviously tense. Squip doesn't blame him; the atmosphere in this tiny, cramped alley is incredibly uneasy. Everyone seems like they're three steps from the edge. He hears footsteps coming toward them and the group all look up at the newcomer. A short Asian girl with dark hair and eyes stands awkwardly in front of them, one hand of course holding that white peice of paper. She is silent as the walks down the narrow space, pushing her clear-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. The girl takes her place next to Squip's doppelgänger._  
_"Hi," she whispers._  
_His look-alike freezes up for a second-- Squip imagines he doesn't talk to girls often-- before murmurs back, "Hey." They both don't speak past that. If it weren't for the tension in the air, Squip would laugh._  
_"This is so stupid!" Glasses shouts, making everyone jump. "Admit it, we're a bunch of idiots for falling for this stupid hoax!" He shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to walk out of the alley. "I'm going home, fuck this..."_  
_"I wouldn't do that," someone says. Everyone jumps again and turns back around. The metal door at the end of the alley has opened. A nearly blinding light comes from within, blocked by the form of a tall, slender woman. Her face is mostly shadowed, but Squip can see emotionless, cold eyes and pale skin. Something about this woman makes him nervous. Glasses stops walking and turns fully around to face her. His eyes are wide and frightened._  
_"Th-this is seriously sketchy, man," he say in a quavering voice. "I'm don't think this is some ordinary program anymore."_  
_The woman nods. If would seem somber of her eyes didn't still look like they are made of glass. "An unfortunate loss," she says. "We regret your decision." Glasses hesitates, then quickly turns the corner and walks off. For a moment, there is only the sound of his footsteps receding. The woman studies the rest of the teens, who have crowded around the door. Squip feels his stomach grow cold with fear._  
_"You may enter now," she says. It sound like an order. The crowd follows and begins to file one-by-one into the door, each person disappearing as they are enveloped by a white glow._  
_"Are you scared?" The black-haired girl asks Squip's doppelgänger as they begin to walk toward the door._  
_"Of course not," the other boy says, but he doesn't sound like it._  
_"Do you think our families are worried?" They are only a few people away from the door._  
_"Mine won't be. Well... Maybe my younger sister. My older brother could care less though, and I doubt my dad is even home from work right now."_  
_She nods almost sadly. "Guess we're all pretty pathetic, huh?"_  
_"Yeah..." His doppelgänger sighs. "Hopefully this program can fix us, right?"_  
_They walk into the bright light. Squip tries to follow, but the glow only gets brighter, obscuring the woman and the door. Light creeps along the alleyway until everything is completely blank and Squip feels like the floor drops out from underneath him._  
He sits bolt upright, cold sweat sticking to his skin. Squip pants, his heart beating uncontrollably. "Wh-what the hell?" He whispers. The blankets are tangled in his legs. He carefully extracts himself from them and smooth his black hair. "What the hell?" Squip's head hurts. Not just a small headache, an actual migraine that feels like a spike is being driven through his skull. He rubs his temples in a fruitless attempt to help.  
What was that? A dream? The way it ended felt more like a nightmare. The image of that Asian girl is burned in his mind. Something about her feels important. And why was there an exact copy of himself? None of this makes sense. Are dreams supposed to? Squip groans, crossing his legs. _'Maybe my younger sister. My older brother could care less though, and I doubt my dad is even home from work right now.'_ Those words feel important too, and familiar. But Squip doesn't know anyone with two siblings and a workaholic father, does he? Well, besides himse--  
_Oh._  
And suddenly it hits him. The fact that he looked just like that boy. That his look-alike talked about a family that must be his. The shiny, processed look.  
That wasn't a dream. It was a memory. Squip just walked through his own memories.  
Holy shit.  
For a while he sits there. This doesn't feel _real_ , Squip feels kind of like he's still in the dream. The ~~dream~~ memory keeps replaying in his head, but he's stopped processing the information. His thoughts are just one long string of expletives. Could this be real? Can he really be regaining his own memories through dreams? This that even _possible_?  
Who was that girl? Why did she feel important? Who was that emotionless woman, and what what beyond that door? Why did Squip enter a 'program'? _Why_ was he out in the middle of the night in some unknown street in an unknown city in a state that might be across the country? God, there are so many questions Squip needs to--  
"Squip?" A soft mumble come from Jeremy behind him. Squip turns and sees that the boy has awoken and is rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His medium brown hair is messy and flops into Jeremy's eyes. "Wh-why are you up so early?" Squip hesitates, torn internally between spilling every new secret he just to earned and hoarding the information. But before he can answer, Jeremy asks, "Nightmares?"  
Squip waits one second longer, then nods. "Um... well, sort of? It was a dream in that I was asleep and seeing images projected by my brain, but it was real... I think."  
Jeremy is silent, but gives him a groggy look of disbelieving concern. Squip continues quickly, "It was a memory, but instead of just waking up and having all this new information I watched myself going through an entire memory. And it wasn't chronological like the information dumps are; this is just some random scene from... _sometime_ , that my mind decided to reveal. And it's all quite confusing-- there was a program, a-and a girl? Maybe a bunch of other people too? I'm not sure, without context it's not making much sense."  
"Neither are you," Jeremy mutters, through still audibly. Louder, he says, "Are you sure this isn't just something you're brain made up? Y'know, like an actual dream?"  
Squip pauses, a blank stare fixed on Jeremy. "Are you sure your entire life isn't just something your brain made up?"  
His former host groans. "Don't be an ass, Squip."  
"If you won't, I won't either," he retorts dryly, before continuing; "To answer more seriously, I would say that my memories all have a... fake feeling to them. They looks almost manufactured. Shiny, I guess." Shit, now that Jeremy's planted a convenient seed of doubt in his mind, Squip's starting to think maybe he's imagining all of this. "Or maybe-- well..." He stops, fighting to choose which words to use. "Look, the truth if I don't know if I'm right about this, but it-- it feels true."  
Jeremy nods. "I understand... I think." He turns on his phone, which was on he coffee table. The bright light makes both of them flinch. "Ugh... I've only got an hour before I'd wake up anyway... You know what, fuck this. I'm skipping today." Jeremy flops back down on the couch and pulls a blanket over his head. Squip frowns. As the only responsible one in the house ~~and Jeremy's former Squip~~ He can't just allow this.  
"Jeremy," he pokes the boy under the blanket. " _Jeremy._ You can't skip. We've talked abo-- It isn't a good idea." Squip mentally kicks himself for almost speaking like he was still functioning in Jeremy's brain. "Besides, won't your friends be worried if you don't show up?"  
"I'll text them," the teen huffs, muffled by the thick cloth. Squip sighs.  
"Oh, don't be so stubborn," he chides. "Come on, if you've only got an hour you'd better get up now."  
"You're not my mom," Jeremy retorts. Squip struggles to keep from smiling at how childish the teen is being.  
"I'm aware, Jeremy," Squip says. Is this what being a parent feels like? "Don't be a brat. Get up." He hears Jeremy sigh dramatically, before throwing the blanket off himself and getting up from the couch. Squip follows him upstairs.  
"Like you can talk," his former host grumbles. "You don't even have to go to school."  
Squip shrugs. "You mentioned before that I'd have to go eventually. Though I don't see how you plan to do that?"  
Jeremy and Squip enter the former's room, Jeremy crossing to his closet and flinging the door open. "Michael's really good with computers--"  
"Good at destroying them, you mean."  
"-- _and_ he's been screwing with the school's server for ages. Michael won't tell us what he did it for, but I-- oh, hey, _that's_ where my Calculus homework went-- I assume if he ever does anything it'll be making the intercom say nothing but 'memes' for the rest of the year." Jeremy emerges from the closet now dressed in his signature cardigan, a plain gray shirt and jeans. Squip physically restrains himself from thinking Jeremy looks like a loser.  
"But, the point is, he's probably able to make fake records and shit like that, so I assumed he's do it for you if I asked," Jeremy finishes. He's at his desk, stuffing papers into his backpack so haphazardly that Squip cringes.  
"You aren't going to find any of that ever again," he warns as Jeremy zips up the bag. His former host laughs.  
"Probably not, but half of it isn't even finished," Jeremy leaves his room. Squip follows along, kind of like a puppy following its owner. His former host pauses at the door, typing away on his phone before turning back to face Squip. "I'll be back by four or so. You can wander around the house, just please, for the love of Nintendo games and all else that is holy, _please_ do not get caught by my dad." Squip nods, feeling a burst of fear at the thought of being discovered. If anyone would toss him to the streets immediately, it would be an adult.  
"Okay," Jeremy says one last time. "See you later, Windows 10!"  
Squip rolls his eyes and groans, but it's good-natured. "Go to school, Jeremy."  
His former host closed the door and Squip watches until his is out of sight, walking toward the bus stop.  
Things felt better. Okay.  
Maybe even a little nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that long chapter of fluff! Please comment and leave a kudos if you haven't!


	10. Lie Awake, Pretend to Be Sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOW THIS CHAPTER IS SHORT SORRY  
> I just wanted to get something out there before two weeks miraculously passed, hopefully this is any good???
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> ~~Also, confession, I listen to Worth It by Fifth Harmony when editing my chapters. Just thought you'd like some Indee Trivia™~~

Whilst Jeremy is gone, Squip is allowed to roam the house.  
The first half hour of this freedom consists of Squip running around into every room until his half-healed wounds start to sting again. He sighs and flops in the couch, faced with a glaring, horrible problem.  
What the _fuck_ is he supposed to do now?  
Squip is free to leave Jeremy's room, yes. But he has absolutely no idea what Jeremy does all day (besides sitting at his computer, and Squip isn't ready to see Jeremy's browser history yet). He stops running around and just wanders aimlessly around the kitchen and house, bored out of his mind. There's no way he's just going to go back to sleep in Jeremy's room.  
_If I can't find something to do for myself_ , Squip resolves in his mind. _I'll do something for Jeremy. Like cleaning the hellish mess in his room._ That will be productive and _definitely_ time-consuming. He leaves the guest room down the hall from Jeremy's and throws the door wide open, surveying the sea of dirty clothes on the floor with critical eyes.  
Squip starts by gathering every peice of clothing littering the room and piling them on Jeremy's bed, which is also an untidy mess. He opens the closet to get Jeremy's hamper out, but is surprised (and disappointed) to find that the closet is also buried in dirty clothes. Squip sighs and reaches to pull these off the floor, but when he holds up one of the shirts he feels a spike of cold shock pierce his chest.  
It means nothing that this is a shirt he made Jeremy buy. Nothing.  
Of course, it's being discarded and shoved to the back of the closet means nothing. Jeremy is simply an irresponsible, untidy teenager. This is nothing special. It is also nothing that _every_ article of clothing stuffed in the back of this closet is one that Jeremy had bought under Squip's ~~influence~~ guidance. Of course it means nothing, he has no reason to feel guilty, _why does he feel guilty_ \--  
He digs out the last of the clothes, desperate to erase whatever he just felt from his mind. Everything is fine. Chill. Normal. Squip finally finds the collapsible hamper and and dumps the mountain of dirty clothes into it. The hamper is nearly full, so of course Jeremy is going to have to do laundry. Squip should remind him to.  
~~Squip should also apologize for everything.~~ Squip is helping Jeremy again. This is good.  
~~Not that Jeremy would forgive him anyway.~~ Jeremy and Squip were on better terms after last night.  
~~Jeremy says he is far from forgiving you.~~ They've made progress.  
Squip is okay. ~~He isn't.~~ He isn't scared. ~~He is.~~ Those men aren't coming back. ~~None of them are safe while he is here.~~ He is okay. ~~He isn't.~~ Something he hasn't heard in a while pipes up in the back of his mind; the dark voice, suave yet menacing.  
_You should leave before Jeremy is hurt._  
"Jeremy will be fine," Squip mutters, trying to ignore the doubt and anxiety spreading through his mind. What to do next? Clean the desk, or make Jeremy's bed? Which has a bigger chance of hiding some other memento of Squip's time in his former host's mind?  
He goes with the bed. The desk is too risky, he'll have to wait for that. Squip makes a discontented hum at the sight of Jeremy's crumpled blanket. Honestly, Squip wonders how the teen manages on a day-to-day basis. He straightens out the thick comforter and smooths out the wrinkles, liking the way the surface stays smooth and perfect when he lays it over the bed neatly and places the pillows on top of it. The room looks better, more fit to live in.  
However, Jeremy's trash is nearly full, several wadded-up papers spilling over the edges onto the carpet. That needs to be taken care of immediately. Squip leaves Jeremy's room and heads into the kitchen, searching randomly through the cabinets and and drawers for trash bags. He finds them under the sink and takes one out of the cardboard box it is held in. The trash in Jeremy room fills over half the bag. Squip is in the process of tying the trash bag off when something white and cloth catches his eye. He picks it up, wondering why Jeremy would throw away--  
It's the Eminem shirt.  
Frigid shock slices through Squip's chest. His breath hitches for just a second, because after that he's fine, he doesn't stand there, feeling like the floor is tilting dramatically and that he can't breathe anymore, because he's _fine_.  
Squip holds the shirt to his chest for a minute, trying to comprehend the storm in his head. This... hurts. A lot more than he would like to admit to anyone, including himself.  
_It's just a shirt_ , a voice suspiciously like 2's or the dark voice scolds him. It's true, it's just a shirt. Just a piece of clothing that he made Jeremy buy, it doesn't have to mean Jeremy wants to throw him away, it doesn't mean Jeremy hates him, it doesn't.  
_It does_ , whispers the dark voice. Ignoring it, Squip rubs the hem of the fabric. It's polyester and feels both nice and fake.  
It's just a shirt. It's stupid that he doesn't want Jeremy to throw it away.  
But... he should be at least allowed to keep one thing, right?  
Squip folds it nicely and places it under the edge of his pallet of blankets in the corner. Jeremy hopefully won't find it. Hopefully he won't be too upset either. After all, he was throwing it away anyway, so there isn't any harm done right?  
Right?  
\---  
Jeremy is home an hour early. Squip is immediately worried, but then he hears Christine downstairs, and he trusts her enough that he knows this isn't because Jeremy's has been smoking pot or has been expelled.  
No, the reason is a lot worse than that; Jeremy had an axiety attack and had to be sent home for the rest of the day. Squip gleans this from the snippets of conversation he can hear from the stairs.  
"Squip!" Jeremy shouts. "I'm home!"  
"I know!" Squip yells back, taking this as an invitation to go downstairs. Jeremy is sitting on the couch with Christine, a blanket around his shoulders.  
"What happened?" Squip asks, still worried even though he's heard the bare minimum of the story.  
"Jeremy had an attack in theatre," Christine says sympathetically. Jeremy makes a whining noise and buries his face in a pillow. Christine rubs his back. "It's okay, Jeremy. It's not your fault that Dustin is a dick."  
Squip is shocked. Christine, cursing? This must be serious. "What did Dustin do?" _Do I have to go on a manhunt_ is the unspoken question. Christine sighs.  
"He called Jeremy a loser, which was--"  
"It's shouldn't be a big deal," Jeremy interrupts, still speaking into the pillow. "I've been called a loser plenty of times by... other people. It's dumb that I freaked out so much this time."  
Christine starts consoling Jeremy again. Squip is too busy trying to fend away the unwelcome thoughts about that pause before 'other people', because he knows full well that Jeremy was going to say that _Squip_ had called him a loser plenty do times before ~~he had~~ and that it was his fault Jeremy is so broken. Squip of course denies all the invasive thoughts, because they don't belong in his head and he isn't supposed think like this.  
"Squip!"  
Squip snaps back to reality with a jolt. "Wha-- Oh! Sorry, what?"  
Christine sighs exasperatedly. " _I was asking_ if I could trust you to watch Jeremy, since I still need to get back to school for eighth period."  
"Of course," Squip says immediately. "I'll take care of him, Christine, don't worry."  
She nods, still looking reluctant to leave. One last time, she adresses Jeremy; "Are you sure you don't want to call your dad and see if he can come home early?"  
"For something this stupid?" Jeremy says sardonically through the pillow. "He's too busy to deal with me. I'll be fine, Squip's been in my head. He can help."  
Well, actually, Squip isn't sure he ever helped much with Jeremy's panic attacks, but if his former host trusts him that much, he isn't going to argue. Christine leaves after a couple seconds of hesitation at the door, quietly wishing Squip good luck.  
Squip sits next to Jeremy silently, sensing that the teen might just want to think for a few minutes. This seems to be the right thing to do, because after approximately four and a half minutes (Squip counted), Jeremy pulls his head up from the pillows, sniffles, and pats down his unruly brown locks.  
"It's a stupid thing to have an attack over," the boy mumbles. Squip frowns.  
"No, it's isn't, Jeremy," he assures the other. "If anything, it makes perfect that being called a loser would hurt the most for you. It isn't-- It isn't your fault."  
Jeremy doesn't say anything. He just sighs. "Christine's a good friend for taking me all the way home."  
"Yes," Squip says. "I'm glad you two are dating."  
There is a moment of silence.  
Then, Jeremy sputters indignantly. Squip jumps and turns to him. The teens face is bright red, and he looks like he's having a fit.  
"We-- _Christine and me aren't dating_!" Jeremy coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. Squip smirks.  
"Mhm, sure," he says sarcastically. "And I'm not a supercomputer."  
Jeremy turns even redder, if that's possible. "No, no, I'm serious! We tried to-- after the play and everything-- but she's... It didn't... we weren't really a good match! So we broke up and just stayed as friends! That's it!"  
Jeremy, in his frenzy to assure Squip that he and Christine are not dating, fails to notice that Squip has gone very still. The latter can feel his heartbeat in his chest and a pool of anxiety in his stomach.  
Jeremy and Christime aren't dating.  
Outside, all he says is, "Oh."  
Inside, there's a million different thought blurring through Squip's mind. He's failed as a Squip, he realizes. He couldn't even do one thing right, he couldn't even save _one person_ \--  
“Did you... think we were?” Jeremy asks, sounding amused.  
“Yes, I did,” Squip says curtly. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong.” He was wrong. The word ricochets in his head, bouncing on the inside of his skull and feeling like it cracks the bone and makes them cave in on his _stupid emotional human_ brain. Squip wants to curl in on himself and shut himself down. Jeremy is too caught up in his own head, trying to deal with the panic attack he had, to notice Squip’s distress.  
Jeremy silently turns on the TV and the episode of Journey to the Center of High School comes back on from where they left off the night before, but the mood in the room had changed completely. There is no more laughter or angry swearing at the characters. Jeremy and Squip are not even talking or sitting next to each other. There is none of the closeness from before.  
They’re back to square one.  
\---  
They both go to Jeremy’s room when 9:00 rolls around, still not talking to each other. Squip wonders with faint worry why Mr. Heere isn’t home yet. Wasn’t he supposed to be back by now? Was Jeremy planning something? Squip tells himself firmly that Jeremy isn’t planning to hurt him, because that would be stupid. Jeremy himself stays up on his phone for nearly an hour, before actually going to bed. When his former host isn’t looking, Squip checks to make sure the Eminem shirt is still hidden under his blankets. It is, thankfully.  
Then, Mr. Heere is home.  
Squip is alerted by the sound of the front door slamming and the entire house quaking a little. He rubs his eyes and, upon realizing who has entered Jeremy's house, quickly starts shaking the teen awake.  
Jeremy moans and tries to go back to sleep, but Squip hisses his name enough times to rouse him. "What-- Hold on-- _Jesus_ , Squip, what's wrong?"  
" _Your father is home!_ " Squip whispers, listening intently for the sounds of footsteps. There are none yet. "What do we do?"  
Jeremy is more awake now. He gets out of bed, worrying the hem of his pajamas in one hand for a minute before ushering Squip to the closet. "Stay there," his former host whispers. "If Dad comes up here I'll pretend to have been asleep. _Don't make any noise_." While normally Squip would be adverse to suddenly being shoved into a closet, he knows how badly things could turn out if Mr. Heere finds him, so he does as he is told and keeps his mouth shut, barely even breathing. He can hear Jeremy creep back into bed and cover himself on the blankets. For a long, still moment, Squip nears nothing but his own heart beating. Then the floorboards outside Jeremy's room squeak a little and the door creaks open.  
"Son?" A deep voice asks. There is the soft sound of the door shutting. Mr. Heere footsteps cross the room to Jeremy's bed and Squip can't hear what he whispers, only that Jeremg makes an exaggerated groan.  
"Wh-what are you doing here so late, Dad?" Jeremy yawns, muddling the end of the question, but his father understands.  
"Sorry, bud," Mr. Heere says, sounding guilty. "Traffic was really bad, and my flight was delayed a couple hours. Did you hold up without me?"  
"Y-yeah," Jeremy says. Squip silently urges the boy not to sound too nervous. "Nothing much happened, things on Sunday were--" Jeremy hesitates for a split second, but if feels like forever. "Fine."  
"Huh," his father doesnt sound totally convinced. "Oh-- and why are all those blankets on the floor?"  
Jeremy seems to freeze up. "U-uh, well, you see, the thing is...I didn't do my laundry...? I mean, I _meant_ to, I just totally forgot..." Squip has to hand it to Jeremy, the lie is convincing. Mr. Heere makes a noise of satisfaction at his son's explanation.  
"Alright, well, I'll let you get back to sleep. Just wanted to make sure everything was good over here." Squip hears him cross back to the door. "...Goodnight, bud."  
Jeremy yawns again, sounding genuinely tired now. "'night, Dad."  
The door shuts, and Jeremy immediately gets out of bed and opens the closet door. His former host lets out a huge sigh of relief.  
"Geez, I was worried for a second there," Jeremy says breathily. "You good?"  
"I'm fine, Jeremy," Squip says, ignoring the fact that this is the most words Jeremy has said to him since that evening. "Go back to sleep. And actually remeber to do your laundry in the morning."  
Jeremy groans. "Ugh. Yeah, fine, whatever. Go back to sleep yourself, you probably need it more than I do."  
Squip can't argue with that. He nestles himself back onto his mound of blankets and curls up into a ball, a thick comforter wrapped around his shoulders. Jeremy crawls back into his own bed. As soon as he is sure his former host is asleep, Squip starts to talk aloud.  
“I know you can’t hear me,” he starts, “and that this is utterly pointless. And that this wasn’t what you meant when you wanted me to talk to you... but I don’t think you’d want to hear what I’m upset about this time.” He takes a deep breath. “I wanted you and Christine to be dating. Because then I’d have done something right, see? Then I could say my... my mission wasn’t a total failure. Maybe then I might actually helped you before you decided to ki-- _get rid of_ me. Stupid, right? I shouldn’t get to choose who you date just so I can feel validated. I’m not angry, don’t worry. It isn’t your fault I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore.” Squip gives a long, dejected sigh. “Emotions, Jeremy, emotions are so... confusing. I don’t understand them. I don’t _like_ not understanding them. Anyway... I guess I’m still glad Christine is here, even if she’s just a friend.“  
Squip nestles himself deeper into his blankets. “Goodnight, Jeremy. Thanks for talking to me.”  
\---  
“Goodnight, Jeremy. Thanks for talking to me.”  
Had Jeremy been facing Squip, he would’ve seen the small smile on his former host’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If by some odd miracle you enjoyed this super short, low quality chapter, please comment and leave a kudos if you haven't already!


	11. I Don't Want to Be Awake Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squip feels sick as soon as he sees her. She’s curled up on her side, and the floor under her is stained a faint red. The girl herself is dressed in a paper-thin hospital gown. He can tell by the slight movement of her shoulders and chest that she’s breathing, but barely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, real talk for sec: I really appreciate how many of you guys have commented and left your love on this fic. It really means a lot to me. I know I might not be the best at updating frequently or even at writing in general, sometimes, but it's so nice of each and every one of you to take some time to tell me what you think if this story. So thanks, everyone.  
> Also, this chapter is short, but I'm, like, 90% proud of it and 10% ready to burn it, so I hope it's as good as I think it is. Enjoy ;)
> 
> EDIT: FUUUUUUUUUU-- I FORGOT TO TITLE THE CHAPTER AND MAKE A SUMMARY SORRY GUYS

_“You couldn’t avoid me forever, defect.”_  
_Squip wants to bash his own head in. He had been hoping to spectate on another memory in person, but instead he’s landed himself in the middle of the dark place where 2 resides._  
_“I can still ignore you, asshole,” Squip snaps back childishly before crossing his arms and turning his back on 2. The apparition of a Keanu-copycat laughs at this display. It takes slow, long strides before stopping in front of Squip and leaning down to smirk at him._  
_“Is that the best you can do?” It asks, studying it’s holographic fingernails as of it doesn’t already look immaculate and perfect. “You really are pitiful, aren’t you?”_  
_“Yes,” Squip answer automatically, then claps his hands over his mouth. Shit, why did he just--_  
_“See, you’re following orders like you’re supposed to.” 2 leans in closer. Squip realizes its blue eyes are glazed and lifeless, and lack a pupil entirely. They don’t glow like his, either. “If you listen, things go the way they’re supposed to.”_  
_Squip lowers his hands and curls then into fists. “You’re lying.” He voices shakes even though he tries to stop it._  
_“Am I? Or are you just in denial of what true?” 2 steps back, and before Squip can think to stop himself, he surges forward and impulsively kicks 2 in the knee._  
_It works, surprisingly. It doesn’t cause the other pain, per se, but it makes the entire shiny, transparent form of 2 shudder and burst into glitchy pixels. There is a high-pitched shrieking sound that makes Squip flinch and cover his ears, but it suddenly cuts off with a soft ping. For a moment, Squip hears and sees nothing. Then;_  
_“That was rude of you.”_  
_Squip whirls around to face the noise. 2 has already reformed, its hologram body only slightly glitching before settling into pseudo-Keanu. Squip unconsciously takes a step back._  
_“Y-yeah, that was kinda the point,” he tries to retort, but his voice shakes a little too much. “Why the fuck are you even here? And what are you?!”_  
_2 regards him with an unreadable expression, before returning to its signature leer. “You’ll remember, eventually. Though maybe it’d go easier if you’d stop denying everything bad that happens to you. That sort of repression never goes well with human brains.”_  
_It feels like 2 is talking a completely different language. “I-I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Squip says defensively. “What do you mean, repression? If you know something about who I am, tell me!”_  
_2’s laugh echoes in the darkness. “You’ll remember,” it says again, and before Squip can demand again that the bastard tell him what it knows, the floor drops out and he wakes up._  
_Only he doesn’t._  
_Granted, the world fades back into light as if he has woken up, but Squip immediately recognizes the numbness suddenly spread over him as if his body doesn’t exist. He’s fallen right into another memory._  
_Well... this is what he wants. Sort of._  
_Squip looks around and has to squint to see anything, because the walls are a blinding white. He’s in a narrow hall, with glass door lining it from one end to the other. Squip looks inside the nearest door._  
_There is a young girl inside._  
_Squip feels sick as soon as he sees her. She’s curled up on her side, and the floor under her is stained a faint red. The girl herself is dressed in a paper-thin hospital gown. He can tell by the slight movement of her shoulders and chest that she’s breathing, but barely._  
_Every one of the glass doors has a similar teenager behind it. Every one of the tiny cells seems to hold a half-dead human being. Squip wanders blankly through the entire hall, looking for where he himself is in the memory, because if the memory is here he has to be somewhere. His thoughts are mainly long strings of swearing as he rushes toward the end of the hall., checking every single cell. Though he tries to block out what’s inside those tiny, white rooms, the images of blank, glowing blue eyes stating into space and blood streaking the floors and walls is soon burned into his mind._  
_Finally, he finds his doppelgänger. When he stops, Squip notices that between two adjoining cells there is a thick glass pane that lets one... prisoner see the other._  
_His doppelgänger is slumped against this glass wall, eyes dull and barely glowing. But when Squip looks closer, they lack the glassy, emotionless look of the other teens’. His doppelgänger, somehow, seems to still be alive in there. Squip spends a very long moment, studying every detail and action the look-alike makes. In appearance he’s a perfect match to Squip; of course he is, since these are his memories. Squip notices that his hands are twitching slightly, and he has several red marks circling his wrists that look to have bled earlier and since dried up. His hair is stringy and tousled. The doppelgänger eyes shift rapidly from one thing to the other, never quite looking focused but moving all the same._  
_Squip suddenly hears sharp, loud footsteps and turns. Fear floods his mind immediately._  
_Walking slowly down the hall is one of the black-suited men. He’s unarmed, but something about the teenagers makes Squip think they’re not going to fight if they do escape. Squip recognizes something in his hand, though. A long silver object identical to the one that he had seen in the coffee shop. It seems to have the opposite effect: instead of shutting down every person, suddenly they all jump up unnaturally as if controlled by invisible strings. This includes Squip’s look-alike, who stands at the same stiff attention as the rest. Squip watches in horror as the whole hallway of seemingly brainwashed teenager stumble out of their cells as soon as the glass doors open with a whoosh. They turn in unnerving unison and form a long line. Squip sees one of the guards press yet another button on the cylindrical metal instrument and the line begins to march, slowly yet perfectly together, down the hall. Even though Squip can see dried blood caked to the exposed skin of some children, but they don’t seem to care or notice the dark red stains._  
_Doppelgänger shambles along with the rest of the line, head bent slightly, eyes staring at the ground. Squip looks up and down the hall while walking next to his look-alike and counts five guards spread out to watch the row of teenagers. Each has a thin silver cylinder in hand and seems to be studying random teens as the line goes by._  
_This reminds Squip a little too much of a prison._  
_Squip follows his doppelgänger closely, looking around for anything that could tell him what’s going on here. He barely notices when they entered a larger room through yet another pair of sealed glass doors. His doppelgänger stops following the original line and instead breaks off with another group of teens. Squip very quickly counts that there are twelve of them, an equal number of males and females. There are other groups forming, twelve to each and filing one at a time into dark rooms. Squip hesitates when his look-alike enters this room. It makes him want to run far away from this place. (So does everything else, but this room especially.) But he swallows his fears and follows before the glass door slides shut._  
_The room inside is pitch black expect for a large glowing screen on the wall. Squip can faintly see that there are twelve silhouettes of metal chairs bolted to the floor. The lone guard who led them in says nothing, simply points to the chairs. Every teenager sits down and doesn’t struggle when, to Squip’s horror, the guard clasps metal bonds over their wrists and ankles. Squip’s doppelgänger seems to stiffen, but he quickly relaxes when the guard approaches._  
_He’s not like the rest of them, Squip realizes. The others aren’t thinking for themselves anymore. But his attention is turned from the teen to the wide screen as it comes to life and he feels the most horrible sensation possible._  
_Squip isn’t floating beside as a spectator anymore. He’s seeing and hearing and feeling everything his memory-self is, from the metal straps digging into his skin to the rush of fear in his mind to the all-consuming awful noises shrieking through his mind. His thoughts are drowning him and Squip feels misled clench his teeth in vain to try and pull himself back into reality. His eyes are glued to the screen as flickering images without real form or meaning are shown for just a split second, the only thing they leave behind being words that invade and corrupt his thoughts like a virus. Listen, obey, imperfect, pathetic, four words that dissolve his mind until he isn’t sure of anything but the need to listen to the voices._  
_Perhaps voluntarily, his mental walls give way and the voices flood in. He listens._  
_You are not human._  
_I am not human, his mind replies._  
_You are a machine._  
_His mind echoes this back. He feels whatever is left of himself in this mess squirm and try to break free._  
_You are a Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. A SQUIP._  
_I am a SQUIP, his mind says dutifully. Squip doesn’t like this anymore, he wants it to stop._  
_You are made to be used._  
_I am made to be used, his mind replies._ No, no, stop, this isn’t what I wanted! _It doesn’t matter what he wants. This isn’t Squip’s mind anymore. He’s part of something else now, to a greater whole._  
_A hive mind._  
_You will save your host, or this is what will happen to them._  
Stop, stop it, I don’t want to! I’m not a computer!  
_You are a machine. You will obey your programming._  
_Even though he struggles, his mind echoes backs that Squip is a machine, and it will obey its programming like a proper computer does._  
_His mind explodes into a startling clearness before the final thing he hears is a pleasant, robotic female voice saying:_  
_“Dormancy Mode, Activated.”_  
_And then everything goes black, and Squip doesn’t wake up._

Jeremy wakes up and immediately knows something is off. His alarm is beeping shrilly like usual, and it awakes him just fine, but the other person in the room doesn’t stir. Jeremy groans and slams his hand down on the alarm’s “off” button before reluctantly sliding out of bed.  
“Alright, Squip, it’s time for me to— Squip?” The supercompu— _teenager_ doesn’t even react when Jeremy speaks aloud. He feels coils of anxiety build in his stomach. Squip is incredibly easy to wake up; even Jeremy breathing too loud or mumbling in his sleep could probably rouse him. So it’s all the more disconcerting when Jeremy shakes the smaller teen, and that doesn’t wake him up either. Jeremy bites his lower lip nervously.  
“Come on,” he mutters. “Wake up, Squip. We’ve got to figure out where you’re gonna hide from my dad, so this really isn’t the time to die on me.” Jeremy pauses, realizing what he just said. “Oh, God. Shit, please don’t actually be dead, I’m too young to be accused of murder.” Jeremy rolls Squip onto his back and quickly checks to make sure he hasn’t bled out during the night. His clothes and the blanket are spotless. Jeremy fumbles for a pulse on his neck, and lets out a huge sigh of relief when he finds a steady, even beat in under the pale skin. So Squip is alive, at least. Jeremy reaches up to his face, placing a hand over slightly parted lips and feeling warm breath exit them. So the kid has a beating heart, and is breathing... so if he’s fine, why isn’t he waking up?  
_He could be concussed_ , Jeremy realizes with a jolt. He quickly scrambles for a flashlight and, with a slight grimace, forces back the lids of one of Squip’s eyes. His glowing blue iris still emits a faint light, and when Jeremy shines the light directly on the eye, he can see the pupil retract immediately to a small dot. He clicks off the light as sighs. So Squip is alive, and doesn’t seem to be concussed. Jeremy still feels shaky as he realizes that now he’s going to have to explain to his dad why they have to take this apparent stranger to the hospital. And then there’s the question of what they’re going to tell the hospital about who Squip is, because the teen himself saying that he’s a supercomputer once inside Jeremy’s brain would warrant a one-way ticket to a psychiatric ward. And if they did take Squip away, would those men still come after Jeremy? Would he be targeted just for harboring Squip for this long?  
Was he really in danger?  
Jeremy exhales shakily, trying to calm himself. He needs to go to school (never thought he'd say _that_ in his lifetime) and talk to the others.  
In fact, he should probably text them beforehand. He learned he hard way this isn’t the sort of thing you spring on someone out of nowhere. Jeremy unlocks his phone and quickly shoots off a text.  
**You:** _guys help Squip won’t wake up what do I do???_  
He scrambles to get ready for school until someone replies.  
**Mikey:** _try turning him off and on again_  
Jeremy sighs exasperatedly. Normally, that joke would make him snort unattractively and grin for a few minutes, but right now he’s more stressed about the unresponsive teenager lying on his floor. But before he can tell Michael off and ask for a more serious answer, Chloe of all people chimes in.  
**chlointhedark:** _my parents arent home for the week, he could stay at my house? idk if you’ve got any other options tbh, but do whatever._  
Barely believing his luck (since it’s usually not that good), Jeremy replies back with about a thousand _thank you_ ’s and tells her that he’s going to take Squip over to her house on the way to school. The one downside is that Jeremy now has to drive to school, meaning he has to ask his dad to use the car.  
Cringing, he finishes pulling on his clothes and signature cardigan before lightly descending the stairs. His dad is still asleep, judging by the muffled snores coming from behind the master bedroom door. Jeremy knocks and opens the door, letting dim light spill into his father’s room.  
“Dad?” Jeremy asks softly. His father makes a disgruntled noise and looks up groggily from the bed.  
“Yeah, bud?” Tones of worry lace his father’s voice. “Is something wrong?”  
Jeremy shakes his head, maybe a little too quickly. “No, I was just, um... wondering if I could drive to school today.”  
“Oh, uh— Yeah, sure thing, Jer. Any reason why?”  
Jeremy says the first thing that comes to mind. “Chr-Christine and I are going to go early to practice for theatre! So...”  
His dad hesitates, as if wondering whether to believe his son or not, before he nods. “Alright, just be safe. See you this afternoon?”  
Jeremy winces internally. He’ll have to find some way to hide Squip later today, then. “Okay, dad. Bye.” Jeremy shuts the door and creeps back upstairs, almost hoping that Squip will have woken up in the time he was gone. But, alas, the teen is still... asleep, or whatever, in the same position. Jeremy sighs, checking his phone one final time to make sure Chloe hasn’t suddenly canceled, and goes to pick up Squip.  
The teen has gotten a little heavier, thankfully. When Jeremy first carried him home in the middle of the night from that park, he had barely weighed enough to make Jeremy out of breath. At least now he has to strain his arms a little to hold Squip.  
He’s healing, Jeremy thinks in relief. That means soon he can leave. He’d kind of forgotten that he wasn’t going to keep Squip around forever, and Jeremy feels a strange sort of pang when he thinks of having to kick him out, but it’s probably nothing. He can’t keep another teenager hidden in his room forever. Besides, Squip apparently has a family that’s been looking for him for God knows how long. This is only a temporary arrangement.  
Still, he begrudgingly admits to himself that Squip has kind of integrated back into his life so seamlessly it was like he never even left, for better or worse.  
Jeremy manages to wrestle the unmoving teenager into the passenger seat of his dad’s old car without being spotted by any neighbors. He climbed behind the wheel, adjusting his backpack between his legs and strapping both himself and Squip into the worn leather seats. The engine rumbled to life when he turned the key and Jeremy backed out slowly.  
He’s been to enough Squad Sundays to know where Chloe’s house is. It’s big, even bigger than Jake’s, which is saying a lot. Chloe has mentioned plenty of time that her parents both make lots of money, but she avoids the topic as much as possible. Brooke refuses to tell the rest of the group anything past the fact that Chloe’s parents aren’t home very often, which leaves the them to fill in the blanks with what they speculate could be happening at her house. So far, they’ve come up with a lot more questions than answers.  
Jeremy turns the corner and drives slowly down her street, scanning for her tall, white stone house with the number 1032. He’s counted up to 1028 when he hears a soft mumble.  
“Jeremy...?”  
Jeremy jumps wildly, jerking the wheel sideways and causing the car to swerve dangerously, almost going up on the curb and slamming into a tree. He frantically evens out the car so it isn’t hanging out in the road, then turns to Squip, who has miraculously, and without warning, woken up and is rubbing his temples.  
“Why are we in the car?” The teen asks, and Jeremy makes a kind of relieved laugh.  
“You weren’t waking up,” Jeremy says, trying to make it sound like no big deal even though Squip was literally comatose. “Are you, like... do you know what that was?”  
Squip pauses, then nods slowly, as if it hurts to move. “I believe so. It was another memory, except...” He trails off. Jeremy raises an eyebrow.  
“Except what?”  
Squip exhales. “I think I saw things how they were when it happened to me, instead of just watching from the side. I... they put thoughts in my head, they forced us to think and act like machines.” His voice changes as he speaks, distress seeping into his words. “What did they do to me?” Squip hides his faces in his head, knees curled up to his chest. Jeremy tries to Eminem’s himself that Squip needs to learn to cope without him, but the way the smaller teen is shaking and whispering under his breath overpowers his logic. Jeremy makes a small shushing noise and unbuckles his seatbelt to slide over to Squip’s side of the car, pulling his arms around the other boy and rubbing his back soothingly. Squip makes a small, high-pitched noise before pressing his face into Jeremy’s shoulder.  
“Those men at the coffee shop _were_ looking for me, Jeremy,” Squip says in a tiny voice. “They knew how to control us. They’re going to find me again.”  
Jeremy holds Squip tighter. “They won’t, Squip. You’re safe. Okay?” Squip hesitates, then nods into Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy pulls back, hands still protectively laid on Squip’s shoulders. He turns around and sees, as if on cue, Chloe opening her door and waving to him. Squip peers round Jeremy to see who is there, and Jeremy sees a look of confusion pass over his face.  
“Chloe?” Squip asks.  
Jeremy nods. “Her parents aren’t home, so she offered to let you stay over there. You weren’t awake when I had asked, so I just assumed that it was okay.” When Squip doesn’t say anything, he quickly adds, “If it’s, like, super not a good idea or something we can go back home, I’m sure there’s something we can do to make sure my dad doesn’t find you—“  
“No!” Squip says sharply, then relaxes with a sigh. “I mean... it’s fine, Jeremy. Thank you.” He absently plays with the strings of the hoodie. Jeremy finally nods when he’s certain Squip is actually alright.  
“Okay,” he says wearily. “Come on, Chloe’s waiting for us.”  
Jeremy swings the car door open, and Squip crawls over the middle part to get out of the driver’s side. The door slams closed and Squip seems to flinch before following Jeremy up the steps to Chloe’s house.  
The brunette looks surprised to see Squip, which is understandable, since Jeremy had last said the supercomputer-turned-teenager was unconscious on his bedroom floor. She opens her mouth, but Jeremy cuts her off, “He woke up on the way here, but I still need him to stay over if that works.”  
She shrugs. “Yeah, it’s fine,” Chloe says nonchalantly, but Jeremy doesn’t miss how... _out of it_ she seems to be. Like her mind is elsewhere.  
Like she’s worrying about something.  
But Jeremy knows better than to pry, so he just lets her lead him and Squip inside. The foyer is large and has several rooms attacked to it. Jeremy can see a long staircase leading upstairs, and a glimpse of the kitchen full of expensive appliances. To says it’s a nice house would be an understatement. Jeremy feels the slightest bit envious of Chloe. Squip seems twitchy, and he keeps shooting Jeremy a nervous look, as if to say, _I don’t want to be left alone_. Jeremy wishes there was something he could do, but he can’t risk skipping school and having his dad find out. So he gives the other boy a small, reassuring smile, and tells Chloe he’ll see her at school before leaving through the still-open front door.  
Jeremy, as he pulls away from the house, doesn’t see the two black-suited men walking slowly down the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and leave a kudos if you have not already!


	12. It All Crashes and Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a very grand total of five minutes for Squip to realizes this is about as not-fine as it gets.  
> Why? Well, it probably has something to do with the man in a black suit knocking on Chloe’s door so hard the light fixtures definitely are shaking now. Squip doesn’t recognize his face, but he does remember with frightening clarity what exactly the metal cylinder in his hand is capable of. Squip races upstairs, scrambling to get out of sight in case the man gets in.  
> He does.

Squip feels slightly betrayed when Jeremy leaves him alone with Chloe Valentine of all people. Yes, her house is quite impressive, and yes, she seems nice enough, but there’s something... off. Not about Chloe specifically, but off in general. Squip hopes his sense of foreboding is wrong this time.   
Chloe tells him that nobody should be at the house while she’s at school, so he’s free to wander as long as he doesn’t break anything expensive, which looks to be just about everything in the house, in Squip’s humble opinion. She barely talks to him, which is a far-ish cry from early mornings at Jeremy’s, but he doesn’t really mind. After his horrifying experience during his dreams, Squip is more comfortable to not talk to anyone.   
“I hate school,” he hears Chloe grumble to herself as she frantically gathers things into her backpack. “If Jake gets one more perfect score I’m gonna break his face.” Squip restrains himself from laughing aloud, but just barely. He feels slightly... wrong, listening to her talk to herself like this, but he’s also curious about Chloe herself. For an incredibly popular girl, there is very little data he has about her.   
Squip hears the door slam shut, and swears the ornate lights hanging from the high ceilings are shaking. He pauses for a moment, then relaxes. Jeremy obviously thought this was a good idea. Squip needs to trust that his former host was right and that this will be fine.   
\---  
It takes a very grand total of five minutes for Squip to realizes this is about as not-fine as it gets.   
Why? Well, it probably has something to do with the man in a black suit knocking on Chloe’s door so hard the light fixtures definitely are shaking now. Squip doesn’t recognize his face, but he does remember with frightening clarity what exactly the metal cylinder in his hand is capable of. Squip races upstairs, scrambling to get out of sight in case the man gets in.   
He does.   
Squip freezes in place, acutely aware that the man is calling over someone else, who turns out to be— what a surprise— a second suited man. Squip himself feels his eyes glued to the cylinder in the first’s hands, which is now emitting a slow, high-pitched beeping noise.   
“Someone is here, alright,” say the first man. He takes slow, quiet steps toward the stairs and the beeping speeds up just a fraction. Squip can see that he is moving the cylinder is in a wide sweeping motion and going in the direction where the beeps are the fastest.   
That direction is Squip’s.   
To be fair, he used to be a supercomputer, so he is quite intelligent. But it still takes him just a second too long to realize, as the first and second man are halfway up the stairs and the beeps are coming faster and faster, that the beeping is meant to track _him_.   
By the time he figures it out, Squip is trapped upstairs with no way out. So he does the only thing he can think of; he runs stairght at the men.   
The beeps from the metal cylinder spike so fast that they sound like a solid flatline. Squip rushes past the first man, who promptly drops the cylinder and cries, “Grab it!”  
It apparently means Squip, since the second man throws one arm in front of the teen and pulls Squip back toward himself. Squip struggles and thrashes, but the man is much stronger than him, and also not injured. Panicking, Squip uses his last resort. He sinks his teeth into the wrist of the man holding him. Immediately, the man pulls away, holding his now-bloodied forearm and swearing. Squip’s mouth tastes metallic and he recoils, but the seconds he’s gained are enough to bolt down the stairs and fling the front door open. The cold air hits him hard, but Squip doesn’t care. He’s more worried about the two men now recovered and close on his heels. He sprints down the sidewalk, barely glancing around him before crossing the street and skidding to hide behind a parked car. The mens’ raised voices echo down the nearly-empty street, and once Squip is confident that he can run and make it without being seen, he turns to get up and—  
Feels something slam into the back of his head before it all goes black.   
\---  
When Squip awakes, he is not alone, nor is he anywhere he recognizes.   
“No— shh, shh, don’t scream!”   
Naturally, he screams.   
“Oh, Goddammit, my landlord’s going to think I’ve killed somebody if you keep that up!” The speaker, a male, sounds nervous. “Can you please be quiet?”   
It takes a few seconds of struggling before he does, but Squip eventually stops screaming. Squip tries to sit up, and a sharp stab of pain hits him in the back of his head. His groan doesn’t go unnoticed.   
“Yeah, sorry. I had to make sure you’d come quietly.” There is some rustling. “Okay... now, I’m going to turn on the lights, alright? I understand that you’re probably freaking out, but you need to listen to me. We don’t have much time, either of us.” Squip glares at the darkness, hoping he’s gauged the position of the speaker correctly, thought its useless since neither of them can see. But when the lights flick on, his kidnapper is anyone but who he expected.   
It’s Glasses.   
Granted, he’s aged about ten years, and his shit-eating grin seems to have permanently left his face, but it’s still the same person. Notably, because of the thick-rimmed glasses.   
“Glasses?” Is the first thing that Squip says. Obviously, not his best first impression, but the man has also kidnapped him.   
“What about them?” Glasses asks, confusion flickering over his face.   
“No, that’s your... Nevermind,” Squip shakes his head, and his surprised to find all his limbs are unbound by ropes or zip-ties or whatever kidnappers use these days. He’s perfectly intact as well, organs all in their proper places and such. “The point is, who the hell are you, and what the hell is going on?”  
Glasses sighs, running a hand through his brown hair. “The name is Jared. Jared Kleinman.” He holds out a hand. Squip hesitates before shaking it.   
“Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor, property— _former_ property of Jeremiah Heere,” Squip says coolly. Gla— Jared raises an eyebrow.   
“What did they do to you, kid?” Jared snorts. ”You’ve got to— to have a name, a family, something, right?”   
Squip pauses, the silence heavy. “I guess I used to,” he mumbles. “But seeing as they took all my memories away, I really have nothing left to go off of.”  
Jared whistles, before shaking his head. “Guessing you’ve been getting your memories back, right?”   
Squip freezes, realizing again what sort of situation he’s in. This man, Jared, has kidnapped him. He needs to pick and choose what he tells him.   
Jared seems to notice his hesitance. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, okay? There’s a lot I need to tell you, so it’s better that way.” Squip waits, and when Jared says nothing, he nods expectantly. Jared makes a small ‘oh’ and sighs.   
“Here we go...” The man says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You aren’t the only one they’re after. They are the people who... messed you up, altered you, whatever you want to call it. I think, and honestly I hope, that you’re the only one who got out, because if not then there’s someone out there like you, lost and in the dark about who they are and everything around them.” Jared takes a deep shaky breath. Squip feels oddly bad for him. “I almost ended up like you. I don’t know if you even saw me, but—“  
“You walked out,” Squip cuts him off. Jared jumps a little and looks up at Squip intensely. “I-I do remember, you’re the only one who decide to leave.”  
“Best choice I ever made,” Jared mutters, though he sounds anything but happy about it. “I just wish I’d convinced Connor to leave too. That way, maybe...” He stops himself, blinking, his eyes misty. “I shouldn’t cry about my personal stuff to you, though. You’re the one who’s been... brainwashed.”  
“You know what they do to me?” Squip asks eagerly. Jared gets up and crosses to a small countertop, turning the stove on. Fire flicks to life under a kettle. Though he tries not to be impatient (he’s still half-worried that Jared might fly off the handle if he pissed him off), Squip still wants to pry every answer he can out of the man while there’s still time. Finally, Jared speaks.   
“I know the bare minimum of what the Corporation did to you. And, no, that isn’t their actual name. It’s the name that the people looking for answers have giving them in place of a real one. People like me.” He fiddles with the handle of the kettle a bit, before continuing. “I’ve figured out about the brainwashing; they altered you guys’ brain chemistry somehow, and made machines to control you. They don’t all work on normal people, but there are some that do.” Squip cringes remembering the coffee shop and the horrible, blank looks on everyone’s faces. “I was sort of... I don’t know, hoping you could tell me what exactly I escaped. What your side of it is.” Jared is looking at him, expecting an answer, so Squip draws in a deep breath.   
“There isn’t much, yet. I know what they wanted to do to us... vaguely. The brainwashing turned us into machines, made us think we were part of a hive mind. Maybe we were, I’m not sure. All I know it that somewhere along the line everyone gave in. I don’t know how I got out, or if I’m special or... whatever.”  
“You’re the only one,” Jared says. “As far as I know of, you’re the only one who ever got out. Besides me, I guess.”  
“How do you know?”  
Jared sits back down. “Look, exactly twenty-two young teens between the ages of 14 and 17 went missing on the same night. You were one of them, obviously. You and the others were all reported missing, and most of your case have been closed. There’s been funerals for a lot of the missing kids, to try and get some closure for the families. But nobody has ever been found.” The other man sighs. Squip notices he does that a lot. “Speaking of that, why haven’t you gone to the police? Told them you were one of the missing kids? I’m sure they could identify you, even if you don’t know your name.”  
Squip hesitates. He could, yes, and part of him wants to. Part of Squip wants to go to a police station and tell them who he... thinks he is. And maybe, just maybe his family would find him and he could pretend he never was a part of Jeremy’s life. He could put it all behind him.   
Part of it sounds so very, very tempting.   
But there’s a single problem Squip finds; his family is not the perfect utopia that he wanted as a child, and if anything they probably would have broken even worse when one of the members when missing. And he’s learned enough about human life now to know that fairytale endings are relatively nonexistent.   
“There’s a reason I ran away, I think,” Squip says quietly. “It might have been selfish, sure, but I don’t think that all of me wants to go back. And well... until all of me is here, I’m not going to make any life changing decisions.”  
Jared nods like he understands. “Yeah, kid, I get it. But whenever you do, I dunno... get all of yourself back in one piece, you should probably at least go and check things out. See if you really want to leave them not knowing you’re alive.”  
If Jared is trying to make Squip feel bad about it, it’s working, but he says nothing. The kettle starts to shriek loudly as steam floods from the spout. Jared gets up and takes it off the heat, not bothering to turn off the stove. Squip should really do that before it starts a fire, but he doesn’t want to intrude or anything. Besides, Jared is an adult. Surely he can handle himself.   
Jared pours himself tea silently in the kitchen. Squip doesn’t mind the quiet. In fact, it gives him ample time to worry himself to death, because holy shit what is Jeremy going to do when Squip gets back.   
Just as Squip has successfully calmed himself enough to stop shaking, Jared returns with his steaming mug of tea and sits down in the cushy armchair again. “Alright, kid. Now that we’re both acquainted, I might as well get you back to your friend’s house. Jerry, did you say?”  
“Jeremy,” Squip corrects. “And, well... I don’t know his address.”   
Jared pauses, before shrugging. “That’s fine, we can do this the old-fashioned way.” He disappears for a moment. Squip studies the room he’s in for a moment and decides it’s more of a long hallway. A trailer, he realizes.  
The man returns, holding a heavy, thick phonebook in his arms. It makes a dull thunk when Jared sets it down on the table and his mug shakes a little.   
“Alright, what’s the last name?” Jared asks, licking the tip of his forefinger and beginning to page through the phonebook.   
“Ah— Heere, two e’s,” Squip says. Jared mumbles under his breath for a few minutes. Then—  
“Aha!” Jared exclaims, making Squip jumps. “Oh, sorry. But I’ve found the address!” He quickly scrawls it onto a napkin with a stray pen, then hauls Squip up from the leather couch of the trailer. “Come on, there’s no time to waste. I know for a fact those guys are already on my trail, and they could be here any—“  
 _Bang._   
There is the sound of something slamming into the trailer and the whole thing, including its two occupants, shudders. Another loud bang is heard, and the trailer rumbled again. Jared stiffens. “Alright, were gonna make a break for it, kid. When I say run, run as fast as you can for my car, it’s already open. Black Honda, it’s right outside. Alright?”  
“Okay,” he squeaks back nervously. Christ, this day can’t be happening. Jared waits for a second, and when he hears voices issue from just outside the door, he yells, “Go!”  
Squip bolts for the door and swings it open, somewhat gleeful to hear the telltale sound of metal smacking into a human face, followed by a cry of pain and anger and the crunching of footsteps behind him. Squip isn’t sue if it’s Jared or one of the black-suited men, and at this point he isn’t risking a look. He simply bolts for the car and gets into the front seat. One of the men was indeed chasing after him, so Squip, in a moment of crazed genius, slams his palm into the horn button on the wheel. The loud, drawn-out wail of the horn makes the man chasing him cover his ears and back away. Squip gives it a couple more seconds for good measure before laying off. He can see Jared sprinting toward the car, motion for Squip to move over. He crawls over the storage space between the front seats and buckles into the passenger seat. The two men are recovering, and Jared doesn’t bother to buckle his belt before flooring the car and swerving around to get on the gravel road leaving the trailer park. Squip clenched his hand around the handle on the ceiling of the car as Jared speeds out of the park and onto the main road. Other cars take note of the man reckless driving, and Squip is surprise the cops aren’t immediately on their tail. But they have bigger problems: a sleek black car with two familiar passengers is following instead. Jared sees this and hisses in anger.   
“Oh, you motherfuckers,” Squip hears the man mumble, before he presses the pedal down a bit more and runs a red light. Jared swerves in and out of lanes frantically to try and get the men off their trail, but the black car hangs on tight. Squip feels both wild excitement and fear of imminent death. He grips the handle so hard his knuckles turn white. Jared, however, laughs maniacally like he’s having the time of his life.   
“Mr. Kleinman?” He shouts.   
“Call me Jared, kid!”   
“Okay, uh... Jared, I think you left your stove on!”  
Jared pauses for a second, and Squip thinks oh shit I made him mad, but them the man bursts out laughing.   
“Kid, that’s the least of out worries!” Jared says, still laughing. Squip finds some part of him joining in on the adrenaline-high happiness Jared is feeling. But it’s quickly gone when he feels something make the car jerk wildly that isn’t Jared’s haphazard driving.   
The black car has rammed them. Jared lets out a stream of creative curses and quickly makes a sharp turn at an intersection. The black car follows like a predator stalking prey. Squip certainly feels threatened.   
“Alright, kid, hold on! Things are about to get rough!” Jared warns him, before he pulls into the parking lot of a gas station, speeds around until he’s facing the black car, and floors it.   
The suited man in the front seat realizes just in time that there’s a car coming towards him and quickly swerved out of the way. Jared’s Honda still scrapes against the side of the sleek car, leaving a long, shallow scratch in the metal and a few nice-sized dents. The black car slams into a curb and rides up onto the grass. Jared whoops triumphantly and merges into the oncoming traffic. Squip feels relief wash over him when the black car doesn’t follow. His heart still pounds at a million miles per hour, but he’s alive.   
Jared and Squip breath for a few minutes, before the older man laughs indee his breath and says, “How about we find your friend, now, huh?”  
Squip nods, a hint of smile playing on his lips. Jared drives slowly, making sure not to miss the street. Squip awkwardly sits in silence, his mind still trying to catch up from the wild experience he just went through.   
“Jared?” Squip asks. He gets a noise of acknowledgement in return, and decides he can continue. “Did you ever, y’know... find anyone else like you?”  
Jared is silent for a second. Squip sees his grim expression in the reflection of the window.   
“I haven’t met anyone else who was smart enough to leave when they had the chance, if there even are others,” Jared starts. “But I knew someone who ended up like you. His name was Connor Murphy. We, uh... we weren’t friends. Or even acquaintances, as Alana might say. We were probably closer to enemies. But I knew a kid named Evan. He’d been pining after Connor forever, and, well... when your crush goes mysteriously missing, you’re bound to look for answers.” Squip fully faces Jared, who is blinking and staring at his hands on the steering wheel. “Evan hasn’t been the same since Murphy disappeared. And maybe if I’d just...” His voice becomes more tense and angry, sounding full of what must be years of pent-up anger at the Corporation. Then Jared seems to realize again that he isn’t alone. “S-sorry. We should get moving.”   
“What are you going to do after this?” Squip changes the subject. Jared looks grateful. The man shrugs.   
“Lay low for a while, find some way to play this off. I’ve done it before. Maybe try and see if Connor ever got out or not. Believe it or not, kid, you’re my saving grace, in a way. I was just about ready to give up and declare myself the only one who ever got away from the Corporation in one piece. But then you showed up, and I dunno...” Jared shakes his head wistfully. “If you got out, maybe Connor did too. But that doesn’t matter right now.“ They both fall into a somewhat comfortable silence. Jared hums under his breath and actually stops at a red light. Surprising. But the light turns green in a couple seconds, and the cars around them begin moving.   
Squip notices too late the sleek black car with a long scratch next to them on the driver’s side. Squip opens his mouth to warn Jared.   
Then, there is a tremendous crash, and the world explodes.   
Squip thinks he blacks out for second, but it could’ve been hours for all he cares. All he knows now is that it’s hot and bright and that his entire body hurts. He tries to stagger to his feet, but fails when a familiar pain shoots up his side. _That’s at least one injury reopened,_ he thinks ruefully. _I should find Jared and—_   
_Jared._   
Oh God, where is Jared.   
Squip actually takes in his surrounding for the first time since the explosion. He’s been flung a good five feet away from the car onto the sidewalk. The car itself has skidded away, leaving a trail of black tire marks in its wake.   
There is blood splattered all over the broken windshield.  
Squip feels icy dread coat his insides. That isn’t his blood, because he’s grown quite acquainted with pain and would know if it was his. But if it isn’t his, the the two suited men are nowhere in sight, who could...  
He needs to find Jared.   
Stupidly, Squip calls out for his— his friend? Protector? Partner in crime and car chases? It doesn’t matter, because no matter how many times he calls out, there is no answer but car alarms. Slowly, people begin to recover from the shock of the crash and gather around the scene. Sirens start wailing in the distance. A lot of people are making calls. Squip searches the crowd for Jared, for a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Every time he sees a pair, his heart makes this little jump in hope that it’s the man he’s looking for, but every time Squip dissapointed and a little more scared that the blood coating the glass and smeared across the asphalt belongs to someone he knows.   
But that can’t be.   
“Was the driver of that car your parent?” Someone asks him. He shakes his head blindly.   
“No, no,” Squip assures them. “I’m looking for someone else.” Because Jared can’t be dead. Not now, after everything.   
Finally, the police arrive. People return to their vehicles or call taxis.   
Squip can’t bear to look anymore for Jared. He stumbles aimlessly away from the wrecked car and the blood.   
Away from the barely-breathing slumped person in the front seat with redness oozing from his skull and a broken pair of glasses resting tauntingly on the console.


	13. They Scream and Shout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sink is still running. Squip settles back into reality enough to mechanically reach out and cup the frigid water in his hands, before rubbing his dripping fingers over the dried blood specks on his cheek. The crimson fluid turns back to liquid, mostly, and dribbles down the side of his jaw mixed with the water.  
> Squip pulls his clothes back on, repulsed a bit by the permanent scent of iron and sweat on them, and heads back out into the world, feeling slightly less awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've figured out why this chapter took so long: It's unlucky chapter 13!   
> That being said, I apologize for the ungodly amount of time it took to write even this short, low-quality chunk of writing. I think this is a record for how long it's been between updates. I hope you guys can find something to enjoy from it!

The police cars start fanning out from the accident almost as soon as Squip starts walking away. Logically, they’re looking for the black Corporation car that hit Jared’s, but he stiffens and looks down toward the cracked sidewalk as it rolls down the street all the same. , Suddenly. it stops just behind Squip. He glances over his shoulder and sees a female officer getting out of the passenger’s side. His heart beats faster involuntarily as she starts walking slowly down the sidewalk toward him.   
_It’s you_ , the dark voice whispers. _She’s coming for you. They’re going to take you back there._   
This thought makes Squip feels sick immediately, so as soon as the officer looks in another direction, he does the only logical thing: he runs.   
A sharp stab of pain races up his side as soon as he starts, but the faint ghost of memory that resurfaces when he thinks of _that place_ is more than enough motivation. He slips into a back alley and bursts into the adjoining street on the other side, trying not to limp too much as he hurries down the street back toward the crash. Squip takes enough random turns that he’s sure he’s thoroughly lost the policewoman— and is now hopelessly lost himself. Squip takes a deep breath meant to calm himself, but only succeeds in drawing attention to the tightness in his chest.   
He’s left the dense area of stores and is now on an open stretch of road with only a gas station— not the 7-11 in the park, thank God. The last thing he wants to do is go back there— and he decides that might be a good place to clean off the suspicious splatter of blood on his cheek. Squip shuffles over to the entrance with great difficultly, seeing as his side is currently throbbing with the worst pain known to man. Squip takes another deep breath. His nerves still go haywire but he makes it to the bathroom in the back of the gas station without being noticed.   
Squip turns the cold water on full blast and lets it run over his hands for a few minutes, studying his face in the mirror. He’s getting to the point where this face and body feel familiar, which is good. Squip takes a long moment before deciding to pull off both his jacket and shirt—both of which desperately need to be washed, ew— and studies his bare chest in the slightly dirty mirror. To be fair, half of him is covered in old gauze bandages, but there’s still exposed skin. His finger wander over the smooth, pale surface. There is a small, jagged scar just under his collarbone on the left side. Squip wonders where he got it. Was he a kid, falling off his bike? Or did he get hurt in a fight with a bully? Did he cry when the groove was scored into his flesh?   
Will he ever remember it?   
That thought makes a chill run up Squip’s spine. The idea that, no matter how hard he tried, there might be some things his mind permanently loses to the abyss feels terrifying. He doesn’t know why he cares, really, because that’s his past, and Squip has been through too much to return to be past like it’s nothing.   
The sink is still running. Squip settles back into reality enough to mechanically reach out and cup the frigid water in his hands, before rubbing his dripping fingers over the dried blood specks on his cheek. The crimson fluid turns back to liquid, mostly, and dribbles down the side of his jaw mixed with the water. More dried-up places take a bit of convincing to wash away, but soon his face looks less like Squip’s been at the scene of a crime and more like he’s missed several nights of sleep in a row. Which he has. Many times.   
Squip pulls his clothes back on, repulsed a bit by the permanent scent of iron and sweat on them, and heads back out into the world, feeling slightly less awful.   
\---  
The wail of sirens breaks the silence as Squip sits on a park bench-- not that park, of course-- and watches the sun sink lower into the sky. An ambulance rushes by at full speed, and Squip silently hopes it isn’t Jared inside. He’s nervous, he’ll admit that. Squip knows the odds of Jared surviving that crash were fine-- it wasn’t even a head on collision, at least he doesn’t think so-- but it was still unsettling at best. Not that anyone died, of course, but it’s a bad situation.   
Squip doesn’t realize someone is calling his name until they honk the horn of their car. For a moment he thinks it’s Jared, but he turns and finds someone even better:  
Jeremy.   
Squip isn’t sure what happened next. He knows that Jeremy gets out of the car immediately and starts running, and that Squip, though it still hurts to do so, sprints toward his former host with all of the energy left in him, and that there’s a fair amount of screaming and freaking out before everyone— meaning Christine, Michael, Jeremy, and surprisingly, Rich— have calmed down enough to hear out Squip.   
“I promise I have a good explanation for this,” he starts. A good ten minutes later, they’re staring at him with varying degrees of incredulity. At any other time, Squip would’ve reveled in the shocked and awed expressions he got from the group, but right now he wants more to rewind back to this morning, or better yet, the day he was born. Jeremy has a sort of fiery look in his eyes. Squip hopes he isn’t angry, because if Jeremy is angry, he might throw Squip out, and Squip can’t manage on his—  
“Squip? Hey, come on!” Someone snaps in front of his face and he jolts, focusing back in on reality. He tries to stutter an apology (since when did he stutter? How pathetic.), but Jeremy shushes him. “Don’t, dude. It’s-- things are gonna be fine. We’ll work this out. Besides, you’ll be leaving soon anyway, so...”  
The rest of whatever Jeremy says is lost on Squip; he’s too caught in the four words that just broke the world like thin glass. You’ll be leaving soon. Squip stares blankly at Jeremy, a cold pit growing in his stomach.   
“What do you mean?” He asks in a numb voice.   
“What?”   
“What do you mean, I’ll be leaving soon?” Squip asks again. Tendrils of dread creep into his voice.   
“Y-you’re almost healed, right? And that was the deal. I let you stay until you heal, and then you leave.“ Squip stomach drops out. He feels his hands involuntarily wander to the reopened wound in his side, the biggest and most painful one. Squip draws in a deep shuddering breath.   
“One of them... might’ve gotten reopened in the accident.”  
There is a long stretch of silence, before Jeremy says vehemently, “You’ve got to fucking kidding me.”  
Squip feels himself bristle in anger. After the day he’s had, Squip isn’t about to be treated like this is his fault. “You think I wanted this to happen?! Someone I care about might be dead—“  
“Don’t bother with that bullshit! You don’t care about anyone!” Jeremy cuts him off, and something in Squip breaks.   
“How would you know?” He takes a step closer to Jeremy, brilliant blue eyes narrowed and full of rage. “How the hell would you know anything, Jeremy?!”  
“I _certainly_ know more than you do! For fuck’s sake, you’re a computer—“  
“Not anymore!” Squip snaps back, voice raising to overpower Jeremy’s. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the others backing off nervously. “Because, _news flash_ , Jeremy, as a human fucking being, I tend to bleed when thrown from moving cars!”   
“This is still your fault--"  
“My fault?!”  
“Yeah, it’s your fault, if it weren’t for you none of this would’ve ever happened, maybe I wouldn’t have those damn voices in my head, and maybe we’d all be a little less fucked up and a little better off if I’d just never activated you!” Jeremy is still screaming, but halfway through Squip stopped arguing back because Jeremy’s words hurt like physical blows to the chest. His blood runs cold. Squip feels like the world is collapsing in one itself. When his former host stops, Squip sends him a half-hearted glare, pointedly ignoring the water pooling in the edges of his vision.   
“Well, guess what, Jeremy? Maybe you aren’t the only one with voices in your head,” Squip snarls, pushing as much venom as he can into the words before crossing his arms protectively over his chest. The sound of a car rolling by alerts him that he’s still running from the Corporation, and Squip checks over his shoulder that the car isn’t theirs. It’s a silver sports car, and he relaxes a little. Dread and fear and anger are still flooding his mind, but as Squip verges on just blocking out everything and trying to shut himself down (he’d think by now he would’ve learn he couldn’t), so he doesn’t speak anymore.   
“Okay, you two,” Rich says slowly, as if he were trying to pacify a frightened animal. “Let’s just calm down and get in the car, okay? It’s getting late, and we’ve all had one hell of a day.”  
Jeremy sends a final glare toward Squip, who diverts his eyes guiltily. The dark voice murmurs, _He hates you._   
Squip realizes the dark voice is right. Jeremy does hate him.   
\---  
Squip concentrates on the rumble of Christine’s minivan beneath him. His open wound is stinging ceaselessly. His right leg throbs and twinges at the ankle. Though it all hurts, and probably means he needs a hospital-- but Squip refuses to go there, anywhere but there-- he refuses to say anything. This is all his fault anyway. There is a heavy awkward silence in the car, and Squip tries to convince himself that he’s back with Jared and that there isn’t a significant chance all the people he can trust are either dead or hate him.   
Jeremy hates him.   
It hurts to think about that, physically. His chest gets all tight and the car feels suffocating and his eyes start to burn. Squip finds himself constantly pushing down the urge to close his eyes and sleep. He needs to watch for the Corporation and be alert. He can’t let his guard down and get Jeremy killed too.   
Jeremy hates him.   
Maybe if the Corporation tries to murder him again it’ll work and Jeremy will be okay. Maybe if he just leaves, those men won’t come for Jeremy anymore. His former host would be safe.   
Maybe, the Corporation would leave Jeremy alone if Squip gave himself up.   
In the back of Christine’s car, exhausted and sore, Squip begins to formulate a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry one final time (not really, I'll never stop feeling bad about this) for how long this took. Please leave a comment!


	14. I'll Trade My Life For Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, in return for myself and the information I have, you’re going to get me an immediate audience with whoever leads you sickos. Is that clear, or do I have to call it a day and resort to desperate measures?”  
> “Like what?” Five mocks.  
> “Like screaming ‘kidnapper’ really loud in the middle of a populated street. Not to mention the cops are combing the city for a couple of your friends who crashed their car into me and... look, can we just get this over with?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, my name is indee, and my strange addiction is italics. 
> 
> real talk, I'm like insanely proud of this chapter. It might be one of my best since I started this fic. Don't know if you guys will think so, but... Well, for once I think you'll find the outrageous wait was worth it (Though I'm still very sorry about that!).  
> Anyway, enjoy~

Squip sets the plan into action the moment he gets to Jeremy’s house. Well, sort of. It’s a simple plan really; he’s going to leave. Maybe seek out the Corporation. Maybe just wait until they find him.  
Is he scared? Yes, more than scared. These people have tried to kill him before. They’re the reason for Squips, for _him_. They’re monsters, plain and simple. And he’s going to give himself up to them.  
Squip clenches his hands to stop the shaking. He can’t afford to back out now. This is for Jeremy’s safety. That should always be his priority above all else.  
What’s Squip’s life worth, anyway? He makes a derisive _tch_ under his breath and pulls the blankets closer around his shoulders. He and Jeremy have reverted back to the not-speaking thing again, which is actually better considering what he plans to do in the morning.  
His insides twist uncomfortably. What is Jeremy going to do when he... leaves? Cry? Mourn? Throw a party? That thought bring an unbidden, almost manic smile to Squip’s face. Hysterical laughter threatens to burst out of his throat. He grits his teeth and tries to reign in the wild flood of emotions his brain is making. Squip sighs heavily, pushing the tension from his chest.  
This is for Jeremy. Everything he’s about to do is for Jeremy.  
He closes his eyes and hopes Jeremy might not forget him.  
Morning comes both too early and too late. Squip barely even stirs when the alarm goes off. His sleep was plagued by nightmares and he still feels exhausted. Jeremy says his name and and he makes a noise in acknowledgement. Jeremy laughs quietly, then catches himself as if realizing he’s supposed to be mad at Squip.  
Jeremy doesn’t speak to him as he gets ready for school, not knowing Squip is going to be gone forever when he gets home. Squip feels like the silence is crushing him. Just before Jeremy is about to open the door and leave for school, Squip breaks it.  
“Jeremy.”  
He hears the boy sigh and part of him feels offended, but Squip’s voice is surprising small when he says, “I’m sorry.”  
Jeremy sighs again, heavier, and his blue eyes turn fully to meet Squip’s. “Me too,” is all he says, and Squip almost thinks that Jeremy knows, somehow, that this is the final time they’ll see each other. Though it’s impossible, it’s a nice thought. Squip wishes silently that there was another way. There so much else he wants to say, a million and one words he could speak that might convey some sort of truth to Jeremy, but instead he just give a small smile to his former host. At least the last time Jeremy sees him, there might have be something good to remember.  
Jeremy closes the door behind him as he leaves, but Squip catches a glimpse of might be a smile aimed at him.  
The warmth in the room leaves after a few seconds of Squip waiting for the sound of Jeremy receding footsteps. He peers out of the window to make sure the teen makes it to the bus stop and gets on the bus. With that confirmation, Squip steels himself for what’s to come and opens the window, thanking God that the Heeres don’t have screens. It’s not a small drop by any means, but he doesn’t have much choice. Mr. Heere might notice if someone left the house after Jeremy (at least Squip thinks so), and the supercomputer-turned-teenager isn’t taking that chance. He pauses, hands gripping the windowsill and knuckles turning white. His eyes slide closed and for moment the wind tangles in his hair and ghosts over his skin and it’s _okay_. It doesn’t feel like the end of his life, like he’s about to walk into the jaws of death.  
Squip readies himself to swing his legs over the edge and carefully drop down, but then his hand brushed the cold metal zipper on the jacket. He unzips it, shuddering a little as the chilled breeze touches now-exposed skin, and folds it neatly onto the bed as an afterthought. Squip stares at the small square of dark gray fabric, wondering if it will be enough to convey the message. After a moment of a consideration, he decides that it would be better to clear things up. He walks away from the window, digs around on Jeremy’s desk for a pen, and rips a piece of paper from a discarded journal. Folding it in half, Squip’s hand hovers over the paper as he tries to, once again, articulate the countless things he wants to say, but in the end only one phrase really says everything:  
_Thank you._  
He hopes that Jeremy can read between the lines enough to realize just how much Squip is trying to thank him for. There isn’t any guarantee, but thank you makes for better last words than sorry, in any case. Setting the small note on the jacket, Squip once again prepares for the jump at the windowsill.  
Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, he thinks, now shivering a bit. His legs involuntarily turn to jelly looking at how far down the ground is. His resolves starts to dissipate, but Squip clenches his hands hard, digging his nails into the fleshy softness of his palms. He has to do this. For Jeremy.  
So, with one final, melancholic look back at Jeremy’s room, Squip swings his legs over the sill and jumps.  
The air whistles in his ears and his insides tighten and twist together as soon as his body stops being suspended anything solid. Squip feels a flash of heart-stopping terror before the ground rushes up to meet him all at once.  
_Thud. ___  
Pain shoots up his legs. Squip’s ears start ringing and his vision is filled with flickering black spots. His entire body buzzes from the force of the impact, but he thinks that, by some miracle, nothing is broken.  
"Ow ow ow... Wait wait, shit-- fuck!" The moment he tries to stand, his body pitches backwards and he crashes back into a bush. Squip groans and gingerly pushes himself off the ground. His legs are still slightly weak and painful, and one of his ankles feels at best sprained, but he can move, so... score?  
But now comes the hard part: seeking out the Corporation that’s been trying to kill him and giving himself up in exchange for the safety of Jeremy and his friends. Squip doesn’t even know where to start walking, but he figures the best way would be out of Jeremy’s neighborhood and into the wider, more busy roads. He feels exposed and vulnerable without the hoodie on, but it’s too late to get it back now. Besides, Jeremy might need it later, and Squip... won’t be needing it again.  
He figures that heading for the more urban area of the city would be his best bet for finding the Corporation. Not that he even knows what they’re called. Jared said nobody did, so it might be...  
Then it hits him. If anybody would remember how to get to the Corporation, it would be Jared.  
Jared, who is currently in the hospital, which Squip doesn’t know the address of.  
Squip decides he should do what he’s best at; wander.  
(Break)  
In fourth period, Jeremy gets a text from his dad.  
**Dad:** _hey Jer, why is there a pile of blankets on your floor?_  
Jeremy has to clutch the edge of his desk to keep from falling. His heart starts pounding. Holy shit, what if his dad finds Squip? This is bad, this is really, _really_ bad. Trying to sound calm, he replies back:  
**You** : _i forgot to do the laundry, remember? I was gonna do it when I got home._  
A few seconds later, his dad responds.  
**Dad** : _sorry, I remember now. But why is one of your jackets folded up on your bed? And why’d you leave the window open?_  
Oh _fuck_.  
Jeremy reaches over and taps Micheal on the shoulder. His friend removes the headphones and looks at him inquisitively. Jeremy makes sure the teacher is looking away, then shows Michael the latest text. Michael expression slides from confused to shocked and he mouthes, _Squip’s jacket?_  
Jeremy nods numbly. He shoots back a text to his dad, lying that he lent it to Michael a few days ago and his friend must have climbed inside and left it on his bed. It’s believable, since Michael has indeed snuck in before. His dad seems to take it.  
**Dad** : _that explains why there’s a thank you note on it :) just remind Michael even best friends don’t get a pass from breaking and entering_  
Jeremy sends back a relaxed _okay_ , before turning to Michael with a horrified look. His friend is fiddling nervously with the wire of his headphones. Jeremy shows him the final text. Michael bites his bottom lip.  
“I have an idea about what Windows 10 is doing,” Michael whispers. “But you’re not gonna like it.”  
“I don’t like anything about this situation,” Jeremy replies. Michael nods and takes a deep breath.  
“Squip’s gonna turn himself in.”  
(Break)  
Squip really should’ve brought some Mountain Dew. His legs feel shaky and his heart is beating fast, despite the fact that he’s not even walking anymore. His ankle has either healed (not likely) or has lost circulation (quite likely). Squip must’ve forgotten he needs nourishment. When was the last time he ate (drank? Whatever.)? Tuesday, he thinks. Too long. He is leaned against the railing of a bridge, staring down at the dark water hundreds of feet below. Maybe it doesn’t matter, though, considering the Corporation probably won’t let him live after willingly returns.  
(Break)  
“I’m an awful person.”  
Michael makes a long sigh. “You’ve said that, like, ten times already, Jeremy.”  
“Well, it’s true,” Jeremy said, tightening his grip on the wheel and gritting his teeth. Michael grabs his forearm and looks at him intensely.  
“No, it’s not,” the dark-haired boy insists. “You said some shit you shouldn’t have, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Besides, there’s no proof that the kid is doing this because of something you—“  
“He is,” Jeremy cuts his friend off then cringes. “Sorry. I’m just freaking out right now, because, like... if he gets captured by these Corporation people and they— they kill him, it’s gonna be my fault. I know Squip’s doing this because of what I said.”  
(Break)  
Squip finds them, the Corporation’s henchmen, walking in broad daylight down a street, innocuous enough with their dark suits and tinted glasses. He feels his insides tie into knots once more and fights off nausea, determined if nothing else to put on a brave face to these monsters.  
He trails behind them a little, keeping the men always in sight. They don’t stop to interact with anyone. Squip is surprised; he thought they would’ve been asking around for anyone who has seen Squip. It’s easier this way, though.  
The men are bickering, it seems, and Squip slinks up behind the, as close as he dares to eavesdrop. He learns quickly that they are looking for him— they use the words ‘the escapee’ but the sentiment is there— and that their designations are Agent Five and Agent Nine, respectively. Nine is tall, dark-skinned and impassive. Five is a medium-height Asian, fiery and brash. Both of them seem less than pleased to be chasing after Squip. He takes a deep breath. It’s time.  
He saunters up to the two men turned away from him with an entirely false confidence and asks, “Looking for me?”  
(Break)  
Jeremy runs a red light and Michael says for the third time, “Slow down, Jeremy!” Both of them are high-strung and scared. Squip could be anywhere. He slows down as the car rolls past a bridge, eyes darting wildly from person to person. None of them look like Squip, but he does spot two men in black suit. Their faces are unfamiliar but the whole evil henchmen look isn’t: it’s the Corporation.  
“There!” Michael suddenly bursts out. Jeremy jumps and hisses back, “What the hell do you mean?!”  
“Squip’s behind them, look!”  
Jeremy’s stomach drops to the floor of the car and he sucks in air through his teeth. “Shit,” he mutters. Michael is right; Squip is slowly approaching the two me. “M-Michael, what the fuck do we do, man? They’re gonna take him back to some creepy lab and kill him!” His hands are shaking as he parks the car along the side of the road. They both get out and watch in horror as Squip says something to the Corporation men.  
(Break)  
Squip’s hands are shaking, so he clenches them at his sides. It helps a little. Five raises an eyebrow at Nine. “What do you think?”  
Nine cracks a malicious smile. “I think our work here is done.” Five pumps his fist triumphantly while Nine smirks down at Squip. “What made you come? Was it the chase or the wreck? Or did you just realize that you’re nothing but lost property in the end?”  
“I’m here to make a deal,” Squip says. His voice is shaking ever-so-slightly, but he’s not about to back down or show fear. Nine grins wider and puts a large hand on Squip’s shoulder. The grip is painfully tight and it’s obvious that they aren’t going to let him slip away again.  
“How cute,” Five sneers. “What sort of deal, Experiment 577?”  
“What?”  
“Oh, that’s not good. How do you expect to strike up some deal with the Chief if you don’t even know your own file number?” Five _tsks_ mockingly. “Pathetic.”  
Squip grinds his teeth. Oh, if only these fuckers had given him telekinesis instead... he’d show them who the pathetic ones were. He forces a sigh through his clenched jaw. “Look, in return for myself and the information I have, you’re going to get me an immediate audience with whoever leads you sickos. Is that clear, or do I have to call it a day and resort to desperate measures?”  
“Like what?” Five mocks.  
“Like screaming ‘kidnapper’ really loud in the middle of a populated street. Not to mention the cops are combing the city for a couple of your friends who crashed their car into me and... look, can we just get this over with?”  
“Oh, right, I forgot Three and Eight did that,” Five remarks almost casually. “Now, just stay here a sec, half-pint, or you’ll seriously regret it. Kay?” The two men move away from Squip and begin talking gravely under their breaths, shooting furtive glances at him every few seconds. Finally, Nine clears his throat and says, “You’re coming with us.”  
_Yeah, no shit, Sherlock_ , Squip wants to say, but keeps the biting remark to himself, remember that these two are hardened agents employed by a company that brainwashes people. Nine leads the way while Five walks barely a foot behind Squip at all times, obviously intent on making sure he doesn’t try to run.  
Squip’s anxiety is skyrocketing. It’s starting to sink in about now that nobody knows what he’s doing, and there isn’t any hope of saving him now.  
Squip is going to die.  
The thought makes him feel sick, but he steels himself. Squip has come this far, and strangely, he isn’t scared of dying itself. The Corporation, with their machines designed to weed him out and their agents seemingly everywhere at once, is what truly makes his insides want to exit his mouth. Who knows, maybe that would be less painful that their methods of execution.  
Down the street the two agents have herded him onto is— what a surprise— a sleek black car stripped of any brand logos. Squip swallows thickly. Holy shit. He’s actually going to do this.  
(Break)  
“Holy shit, are we actually gonna do this?!”  
“They’re taking him to their _fucking_ car,” Michael hisses. “So yeah, to avoid being guilty of _letting someone get kidnapped_ , we’re doing this!”  
Jeremy runs his fingers through his hair. “Okay, then we’ll do this like planned.” The ‘plan’, simply put, was to attack one of the men by surprise and in the confusion, snatch Squip. Hopefully without anyone dying.  
It was pathetic and crazy and a whole bunch of other things, yeah. But was Jeremy going to back down? Fuck no.  
Michael’s part started out easy: make a commotion with one of the agents, probably the less terrifying one. Jeremy was to run in and lead Squip away before either of the Corporation henchmen could realize what was happening.  
The two boy were hidden behind a corner, watching the quickly receding three figures. Jeremy sucks in a deep breath and exhales.  
“Now,” he whispers. Michael, a little pale and tense, leaves their hiding spot and fakes casually strolling down the sidewalk, head bent and headphones on but not playing anything. He’s walking fast enough to catch up to the men and Squip.  
Jeremy waits until Michael is about halfway there, then follows.  
(Break)  
Squip hears quick footsteps behind him and stiffens a little. If anyone finds the two agents and himself too suspicious, they might report it to the police, and then there would be no chance of guaranteeing Jeremy’s safety.  
However the person quickly walks by. They are wearing an eye-assaulting red hoodie and white headphones covering their ears— _Wait_.  
Squip does the double take of double takes, feeling his neck crack uncomfortably when he whips his head back around and confirms that, yes, that is Michael Mell walking by him.  
That is indeed purposefully Michael Mell bumping shoulders with Agent Five.  
(Break)  
Jeremy walks as nonchalantly as possible behind the towering man that is watching Squip like a hawk. When Michael intentionally walks into the other agent, the looming one stops abruptly. He lets out a sharp exhale of relief. The man Michael hit seems to be arguing with his friend intensely about it. Jeremy can see Squip now, or at least the beat-up pair of Converse he stole from Jeremy’s closet. The teen creeps closer until he’s within arms reach of the silent dark-skinned man. This is perfect. Without breath, Jeremy raises one foot...  
And kicks the back of the man leg as hard as he can. The man curses and drops down, his now-injured leg having suddenly fell from under him. The agent arguing with Michael turns wildly to see his partner struggling to get up, and then sees Jeremy, standing there frozen in fear. He can’t move from the piercing, furious gaze of the man. His Converse are superglued to the sidewalk.  
“O-oh shit,” he stutters. The agent takes one stop toward Jeremy—  
And a fist collides with his face.  
(Break)  
Five takes a step in Jeremy's direction, and something in Squip goes ballistic. It’s like a wild animal is released in him and without thinking, he reacts. His balled fist slams into Five’s with a satisfying crack. The man cries out in shock and pain. Blood spurts from his mouth. The man’s hands go up to cradle his injured jaw, curses muffled by his slender fingers.  
Squip turns to Jeremy, eyes wide. “I just did that,” he says weakly. Jeremy wordlessly nods. Agent Nine has managed finally to stand, and Squip is willing to bet he won’t be put out of commission with a single punch to the jaw. But before Squip can consider another method of attack, Jeremy grabs his wrist and runs. The boy nearly yanks Squip’s arm out of its socket, and Squip helps but stumbles after him, glancing back to make sure Michael is following. The other boy is right behind them, thankfully.  
But now how is Squip going to negotiate Jeremy’s safety?  
The almost euphoric feeling he has shatters, replaced by cold, seeping dread. Squip realizes with horror that now the boys have made themselves more of a target: they’ve accidentally ruined Squip’s chance at ensuring they survive this.  
They finally stop by Jeremy’s car, but the boy doesn’t loosen his death grip on Squip’s arm at all. Squip can feel his fingertips tingle a bit.  
“Jeremy,” he says gently. “As much as I appreciate your concern, I kind of need those fingers.”  
Jeremy looks down, confused, before saying, “Oh!” He lets go and Squip massages his wrist a little. Jeremy tries to get in the driver’s seat, but Michael puts out a hand to stop him.  
“I’ll drive,” the dark-haired boy offers, but it sounds more like a command. “You two need to work some shit out.”  
Jeremy nods slowly and turns back to Squip. “We’ll, uh. Sit in back, I guess.” He clambers into the backseat and Squip follows suit. His hands absent run over the soft material of the seats as he stares into space, the numbness he was using to block out his dread vanishing suddenly and leaving him to drown in a tidal wave. His fingers curl into the seats in an effort to ground himself. _Failure_ , the dark voice whispers. _Failure, failure, **failure.**_ The Corporation is coming for him, they’re coming for Jeremy and _we’re all going to die_ —  
“Hey,” his former hosts says. “Squip, don’t... why would you say that? It’s okay, you’re not going to be killed, you’re safe here.”  
“No, we’re not,” Squip hisses back. “Don’t you understand, Jeremy? I wasn’t turning myself to make myself some... some _martyr_. I was trying to negotiate a deal with them that if they had me back they wouldn’t come after you, too. I was trying to save you.” Squip shakes his head, trying to wave off that unbidden thought.  
A look of understanding dawns on Jeremy’s face and he stares at Squip. “Are you fucking crazy?”  
“No!” Squip says insistently. “Uh... okay, possibly. But it was the only way!”  
Michael chimes in from the front seat. “Okay, dont get me wrong, ‘noble sacrifice’ does score you some points with me, but did you think that would work? The Corporation has proven that they’re ready to kill people, what makes you think they won’t murder everyone who met you to tie up loose ends? And why would they even listen to you?”  
Squip would be lying if he said he didn’t think that, and he voices that. “You didn’t think I didn’t consider it, Michael? That this could all crash and burn? I did, but there wasn’t any other way that I could think of! I don’t care if they take my body apart piece by piece as long as Jeremy isn’t next! As long as nobody gets killed because of me!” Squip pulls his knees to his chest. His slender fingers dig into his mess of curly dark hair.  
“Squip, don’t say that,” Jeremy says softly. Squip feels the boy’s warm hands cover his freezing ones, but instead of comfort he feels a hot flash of anger.  
“No!” Squip snaps, batting Jeremy’s hands away. “Don’t tell me to shut up! Let me just _scream_ for five goddamn minutes! I’ve spent my morning thinking I was going to die, and willingly walking to my own death, and I’m pretty fucking sure you have no idea how that feels, Jeremy! And you keep telling me I don’t understand what I’ve done to you but I do, _I do_ , because I’ve told you already, you’re not the only one with a voice in your head that tells you how fucking awful you are and how better off everyone would be if you were dead and how much everyone hates you!“  
Somewhere in all this hot tears start streaking down his face and Jeremy is so obviously surprised. It’s almost amusing; as if he hasn’t seen Squip cry or scream before this. Or maybe it’s the words that just left his mouth. Michael has pulled over and is staring back at him in a mix of shock and pity.  
“What do you mean?” Jeremy says weakly.  
Squip cringes. Had all that just really come out of his mouth? God, he was so fucking pathetic. “There’s... a dark voice in my head and it tells me that I’m pathetic and useless and a-a bunch of other things too.” He shudders, chills running down his spine. Jeremy notices and starts unbuckle his seatbelt, but Squip suddenly feels panicky and places his hands on Jeremy’s to keep him from taking off the life-saving device. “No! I, um. Don’t do that. I can come over there.” Squip demonstrates by scooting over to Jeremy's side. The boy shrugs and puts his seatbelt back into place. Relieved, Squip doesn’t push away when the taller boy wraps his arm around Squip’s shoulders.  
"There's so much I need to say," Squip chokes out softly. "But I've got no idea how to say it."  
“We can talk at home, okay? For now, you seem pretty tired.”  
Squip nods robotically, laying his head on Jeremy shoulder. His former host is right; Squip is exhausted. The moment he gets comfortable and closes his eyes he’s out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that! Please comment and leave a kudos if you haven't yet!


	15. More Than Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I blame you, Squip!” Jeremy pants as they make a mad dash through the parking lot for the car. Dustin started following about ten seconds after they booked it, so they haven’t got much of a head start. The bully is spouting angry curses as he chases them.  
> “What?! Why?” Squip demands. Jeremy scoffs.  
> “Oh, don’t ‘what why’ me, dude! You literally kicked him in the balls!”  
> “Well he deserved it!” Squip points out in defense. Michael reaches the car first and unlocks the Cruiser. Squip and Jeremy clamber inside and barely have the doors closed before Michael speeds out of the parking lot, leaving behind a fuming Dustin Kropp.  
> They drive in a few minutes of sweaty, tired silence, before Jeremy turns around and says, “Squip, you’re so grounded.”  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hOLY HECK LONG CHAPTER  
> Like maybe even the longest in DO history? Wow.  
> Also, a comment on a scene near the end, where Squip manipulates someone into breaking rules.  
> That's wrong of him to do. That's the point, as well; Squip extends the courtesy of not being, well, a manipulative prick to Jeremy and his friends, but not to everyone, which will change later because ~character development~. He's still a flawed person, deeply, and Squip sort of puts Jeremy on this pedestal that nobody else gets. So I don't condone his actions.

Squip would have never thought the sight of Jeremy’s house would be a welcome one, but nevertheless relief is what he feels as the car slows to a halt in the driveway.  
“Okay...” Jeremy says. “So, Squip, I made a cover story for you so we can stop sneaking you past my dad: you’re a friend of mine from out of state and after a lot of complicated family shit, you left home to live with a relative. Right now you’re waiting for them to get all the paperwork in order, so I offered to let you stay. My dad agreed to it, so you’re gonna have to play along. Sound good?”  
“Yeah,” Squip says quietly. “I can do that.” Internally, a warm feeling blossoms in his chest. Jeremy had done all this for him? Squip shakes himself and recollects, getting out of the car and follows Jeremy and Michael inside.  
Mr. Heere is in the living room and yells something to Jeremy in response to his son’s return home. Squip clenches his fists nervously, before trying a few times to get a relaxed expression on his face right. Jeremy gives him an almost imperceptible nod as the three enter the living room. Mr. Heere mutes the television to look up at the boys. He stands up, smiling.  
“Ah, you must be Jeremy’s friend!” Squip is struck by the sudden realization that Jeremy got his height from somewhere, and that somewhere is his father. Mr. Heere holds out a hand and Squip, trying to remember what his programming said about interaction with adults, gives a small smile.  
“Yes, I am.” _Quick, quick, think of a name_! “Nathan Forrest, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thanks very much for letting me stay.”  
Jeremy’s father is obviously surprised at Squip’s cordial tone. “Of course, feel free to make yourself at home,” he said warmly. Squip couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit envious of Jeremy. What Squip wouldn’t give to have someone like a father right now.  
Jeremy taps him and gestures over his shoulder. “Let’s get to bed, huh? It’s been a long day.” Squip tiredly trails after the two boys, his entire body feeling heavy. As soon as they are upstairs and out of earshot, Jeremy turns to him.  
“What did you get so nice and shit?” His former host demands. Squip shrugs.  
“Part of a Squip’s programming,” he says, “is the ability to guide its host when speaking to adults.”  
“Oh,” Jeremy says, sounding disappointed. Squip tries not to let it get on his nerves. He barely hears Jeremy mutter, “Wish I’d been the one to get a free pass in life...” Squip feels his insides drop to the floor. He grabs onto Jeremy’s arm with a sudden urgency.  
“Don’t say that,” Squip hisses fervently. “Trust me, don’t ever think you want this.”  
“Okay, geez,” Jeremy says. He sounds shaken, maybe even scared by the fire that burns in Squip’s eyes. “It was half a joke anyway, chill...”  
Squip lets go, murmuring, “Sorry.” Jeremy sighs a little.  
“It get it, I guess. I guess I’m just a bit... jealous that everything is so easy for you.”  
Squip cringes. “It’s not. You might think it’s easy, but it’s not. I promise.” He can feel Jeremy’s disbelief, but the boy says nothing, simply making a noise of assent and continuing to his room.  
Squip once again is hit by a wave of relief when he sees the pallet of blankets sitting in the corner of Jeremy’s room. Without a word he flops down onto the soft comforters with a thump.  
“Is this normal?” He hears Michael ask.  
Jeremy snorts. “Pretty much.”  
The two start moving around the room, shuffling objects around loud enough to bother Squip, so he grumpily sits up and glares as they fiddle with Jeremy’s small television. He watches as the two struggle with the remote trying to get it to work, when suddenly a deafening blast of noise floods from the speakers and all three boys yelp, or in Squip’s case, emit a completely manly and not-at-all high-pitched shriek.  
“Turn it down, turn it down!” Jeremy yells, holding his hands over his ears, while Michael frantically presses buttons. Finally, the tirade of catchy 8-bit music subsides and leaves only the ringing in Squip’s ears.  
Michael and Jeremy laugh breathily and pick up their remotes. Squip watches, his chin propped up by one hand, as their small triangular cursors flick across the screen whilst they choose weapons. Fittingly, Michael chooses a baseball bat embedded with nails, and Jeremy choose a gun. Of course, Jeremy’s is the smarter choice; guns are longer range and don’t require you get up close and personal with your opponent.  
Finally, when they are finished setting up, the screen fades to black and letters appear, accompanied by a long bang like a gunshot.  
APOCALYPSE OF THE DAMNED.  
Exposition text scrolls across the screen while the main theme plays once more. Squip doesn’t bother reading it. It’s just a dumb video game, after all. The boys whoop excitedly, however, as the game opens and their pixelated avatars appear onscreen. LEVEL 1 flashes over the little sprites’ heads and soon enough five zombies drag themselves onto the screen from the right. Michael and Jeremy tense and the air is filled with the clicking of controllers and sound effects. Despite this not being his preferred form of entertainment (what is? Will he ever remember?), Squip feels a pang of jealousy at the sight of his former host being so happy.  
Jeremy doesn’t need you, the dark voice whispers. He never needed you.  
Squip mentally growls at the voice to shut up. It had left him alone for a while, why return now, when Jeremy was happy and didn’t hate Squip?  
It’s not going to last.  
He leans his head back against the wall, coldness spreading through his veins— guilt, fear, numbness— as he grows deaf to the sounds of joy around him. Someday, this is going to end. Someday, Squip will be forced to leave, he’ll find his family or be caught by the Corporation or just curl up in some back alley and die.  
And Jeremy would go on with his life.  
“Shit!”  
A loud cry of rage jolts Squip out of his state. He shakes his head. Where had all that come from? He shuts his eyes then reopens them, staring at the television between the silhouettes of Jeremy and Michael. GAME OVER flashes in obnoxious letters over a dark red background. Both boys groan and bemoan the loss, but play again. Squip notices they’ve already gotten to the third level.  
Well, they have had twelve years of practice, he thinks.  
“Fuck, Jer, kill it kill it!”  
“I’m trying, don’t distract me!” Both their voices are shrill and shaking. Squip watches as Jeremy’s avatar unloads magazine after magazine into a convulsing, lumbering mass of flesh that is the final boss of the level. At last one bullet strikes home with a critical hit and the boss’s health finally drops to zero. A spray of sickly green viscera and deep red blood comes from the mutated zombie’s body as it collapses to the floor. Both of the boys cheer and grab one another. Squip sighs, rolling his eyes as they scream in elation.  
\---  
If you ask Squip, it was not a good idea to get the two hyper teenagers to play Mario Kart at eleven at night, but nobody asked him. Instead, they screamed their lungs out at each other, twelve years of friendship worth nothing when they were neck in neck for first place on Rainbow Road.  
Finally, Mr. Heere knocked on the door and informed them that it was almost midnight. Jeremy and Michael groaned and made a fair amount of fuss, but still shut off the game and television after Jeremy’s father administered a stern look.  
Squip sighs peacefully, glad to be relieved of their wild screaming. They take their sweet time getting ready for bed, until he finally says, “Jeremy, your father is right, it’s very late, and you have school tomorrow as well.”  
Michael cringes. “God damnit...”  
“Did you forget to do your homework or something?” Squip asks, rolling his eyes.  
“No, but, uh... Jer, I think we forgot about. Y’know.”  
Jeremy’s blank expression melts into one of horror. “Well... shit.”  
By now Squip is suspicious. They reacting much too upset for this to be over some forgotten assignment. “What are you two going on about?”  
“So, uh, I know this might be bad timing, Squip,” Michael says slowly. “But, uh... Jer, how about you say it?”  
“Me?! No, you’re the one who did all the work!”  
“It’s your supercomputer!”  
Squip feels flicker of fear but suppresses it. This isn’t as bad as he thinks, surely...  
“Okay.” Jeremy takes a deep breath. “This probably isn’t the best time, but... Michael finished faking your records yesterday, and, uh...”  
A long silence.  
“Your first day of school is next Monday.”  
\---  
“You’ve got to be kidding.”  
“For the third time, no, we aren’t kidding.” Jeremy says exasperatedly.  
“I am not prepared for this,” Squip mutters shakily.  
“Welcome to the American school system,” Michael says. “It’ll be fine, anyway. Just think of it as a way to get away from those Corporation creeps.”  
Squip slowly nods, biting his lower lip. “Yeah... I can do that.”  
“See? Doing better already.” Jeremy chirps, inspecting a gray long-sleeve shirt. “Come here, let’s see if this is your size.”  
Squip sighs. “What are you, my mother?”  
“Be quiet,” his former host chides, but Squip catches him snickering. He smirks and mutters, “Jeremom.” He snorts, startling Jeremy, who had been draping the shirt over Squip’s back to gauge the fit. Squip leans against a display rack, shaking in held-back laughter as Jeremy throws his hands up.  
Michael returns holding a plastic bag, surprised to see Jeremy shaking his hand in disappointment while Squip giggles and whispers, “Jeremom.”  
“I leave for five minutes and come back to this?” Michael asks incredulously. Jeremy punches the bridge of his nose.  
“He asked if I was his mom and now he won’t stop calling me ‘Jeremom’,” the brunet sighs. Michael lets out a tiny snicker and Jeremy snaps quickly, “Don't you start too!”  
“Okay, okay... I’m fucking... I-I’m good, I’m done now,” Squip wheezes. He sighs (happily? A happy sigh? Who knew.) and runs a hand through his hair. The action causes the skin to tighten and tug at the edges of the exposed wound. Sparks of stinging pain shoot across his side and Squip quickly lowers his hand with a wince. Jeremy notices him flinch and opens his mouth, but Squip cuts him off with, “I’m alright. Just... probably need to change the bandages and clean the cuts. They’re hurting again.”  
His former host nods. “Okay, we’ll do that at home. First, though, try all these on.” Squip barely has time to react and catch the bundle of clothes Jeremy tosses to him. He scans the signs hanging from above and finds ‘Men’s Fitting Room’.  
“Um... okay,” he says to himself. Jeremy and Michael head off in another direction as Squip walks to the dressing rooms. They are less than spotless; beige walls with chipped paint, flickering ceiling lights, and creaking doors. He nervously scrambles into an open stall. The light above him flickers constantly and it bothers Squip’s eyes a little. He feels suddenly exposed as he takes off his usual clothes, hanging the clothes Jeremy so unceremoniously hurled onto him on the little hanger hook thing (it probably has a name, but he doesn’t care) and takes the first one— plain grey with a black power button logo, chosen by himself because it just felt too good to pass by. It’s a little too big on his still-skinny frame, but the length and bagginess conceal his fresh-bandages wounds nicely, and that’s what he was looking for.  
Squip systematically tries each on. Fits. Fits. Doesn’t fit. _Definitely_ doesn’t fit. After working through each one and hanging them in two categories —fits or doesn’t fit—, he hangs the rejected ones on a rack outside the stalls. Squip leaves the dressing rooms as fast as he can, eager to escape the walls that seem to have prying eyes digging at his skin and his injuries and his every little imperfection.  
Squip shakes his head. _No, no, don’t do that here, in public. Don’t embarrass yourself, you pathetic idiot._ Squip turns around fully, scanning for Jeremy and Michael. He sees neither of the boys anywhere in the store he is in. A dash of cold panic grips him but he forces himself to breathe. No, Jeremy wouldn’t leave him alone here, not here—  
“Jeremy?” He calls uncertainly. Squip doesn’t want to make a scene by screaming Jeremy’s name despite the fact that his panic isn’t going away and he can’t breathe or think. Walls close in, crumble, suffocate, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, breathe _breathe b r e a t h e_ —  
“Squip!”  
Air rushes back to his lungs in a harsh flood. Squip jolts from his mental shutdown and lets out a shaky exhale. His hands are trembling uncontrollably.  
_Pathetic_ , hisses the dark voice. _What are you, five? Stop acting like a child who’s lost his mother._  
Unbidden rises the thought of Jeremom, and Squip finds himself smiling. He gets his legs working enough to walk (quickly, though he’d never admit it) back to Jeremy and Michael, who have taken a small table and sat down with food for themselves (and a Mountain Dew for Squip of course). The smell and sight of normal food makes Squip’s stomach turn and clench with nausea and he hastens to wrestle the cap off the soda before his brain decides now is the time to expel his intestines.  
Mountain Dew gets really old after it’s all you have to drink for a week, Squip decides, then pauses in his thoughts. Has it really only been a week since he so haplessly stumbled upon Jeremy? Mentally, he starts making a timeline of the past days: Last Saturday, he arrived here. Sunday night, he was discovered. Monday, Jeremy was... gone, he’d left Monday, went to Michael’s. Tuesday, the Corporation started searching. Wednesday, he’d found the Eminem shirt (shit, he’d forgotten to check for it). Thursday, the Jared Incident had... happened. Friday, he’d gone searching for the Corporation himself.  
Here, on Saturday, Squip is drinking Mountain Dew with his former host and a nerd who figured out how to kill him.  
It’s been a hell of a week, he’d say.  
Jeremy breaks the silence; “So... school.”  
Squip pipes up, “That sentence is not grammatically correct, Jeremy.” He hears both Michael and Jeremy sigh and his lips quirk up into a small smile, but it fades. Where was all this... warmth in him coming from? Human emotions are still baffling, even after a week of them.  
“See, I told you,” Michael grumbles. “He’ll be perfect for school.”  
“Okay, we’ve been successfully sidetracked now,” Jeremy declares. “So, back on topic: Squip needs to be ready for school by Monday. We have two days to prepare you, Windows 10—“  
“I’ve told you, don’t call me that.”  
“So let’s make good use of it!” Jeremy talks over him loudly and Squip huffs but lets the bout continue. “First things first, you need to get familiar with your cover story. You’re Nathan Forrest, right? And where are you from?”  
“Out of state,” Squip answers automatically, remembering what Jeremy told him the night before.  
“What state?” Jeremy asks. Squip freezes up.  
“Uh...” How could he divert this question? “A lot of places... my family moves around a lot?”  
“Good,” Jeremy says. Squip feels shock hit him; was that praise? He zones back in, as Jeremy is continuing to speak. Squip can think more on that later. “Why are you here?”  
“Family stuff?” Squip says nervously. If people are going to ask this many questions he might as well just say he’s computer so they’ll leave him alone. “It’s, uh, complicated.”  
“Ain’t that the truth,” Michael says, and Squip gives a short bark of laughter. Michael looks momentarily surprised, but Squip decides that’s not his problem. If Michael wants to get weirded out every time Squip is happy, he can fuck off. Squip kinda likes this newfound... not-awfulness. Okay, his eloquence is still quite lacking.  
Jeremy has a odd smile on his face, but he doesn’t give Squip a chance to ask about it. “Okay, I’m sure you can just feign social awkwardness or say you don’t want to talk about it if anyone asks more.”  
“Excuse you,” Squip feels himself say before he can think about the words. “I don’t feign awkwardness, I am genuinely bad at social situations, thank you.”  
There is a moment of stunned silence.  
“Can you uninstall the sass, please?” Michael asks Jeremy, who started laughing so hard he nearly falls out of his chair. Squip tries not to choke on his Mountain Dew.  
And then the whole good feeling vanishes. As if he’s been dunked in ice water, the warmth bubbling in him evaporates away. God, Squip doesn’t deserve to feel happy! How could he act like this around Jeremy, whose life he almost ruined? What kind of a monster is he?  
“Squip?” Someone asks. They wave a hand in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t react. Voices and sounds blur and distort, overlaid by a thumping heartbeat. “Squip, are you okay?” He feels his hand clench down on the Mountain Dew bottle. Condensation dribbles down his skin. No, he isn’t okay, none of this is okay. He’s a fraud, a liar, Squip is a parasite feeding off Jeremy and his kindness and his happiness.  
“Hey, hey,” a voice says. “Focus on me, alright? Relax and take a deep breath. You’re not a parasite, don’t say that, Squip.”  
“Shit,” he thinks, except he says it out loud too. “I mean—  
“Enough,” Jeremy says intensely. “And you’re, like, completely wrong, understand? You’re allowed to have happiness.”  
“No, I’m not,” Squip says quietly. He tries to keep his voice from sounding like a whine. He’s pathetic. “Not when I’ve taken so much from you.”  
“Oh, fuck,” Michael suddenly says. “Guys, I hate to break up a moment, but we have a problem.”  
“What?” Squip and Jeremy ask simultaneously. Squip feels his insides twist up in fear. God, please don’t let it be the Corporation, not now. He looks up apprehensively, fearing for what he might see. Luckily for Squip, it isn’t the Corporation, but he doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief yet.  
Approaching alone, with a look of evil in his eyes, is Dustin Kropp.  
“Okay, while his eyes say he’s coming to kill us all,” Squip remarks as the two boys watch in horror. “I don’t get why it’s such a big deal. He’s just a bully.”  
“Oh sure, except, um... Rich might've convinced us to do something a tiny bit stupid,” Michael hisses from the corner of his mouth. “And sort of pissed him off.”  
“Do I want to know?” Squip asks. Michael gives a tiny shake of his head.  
“Suffice to say, it involved vandalism. And his car.”  
“Tell me he hasn’t seen us,” Jeremy says tersely, staring at his food with such intensity it might catch fire.  
Dustin is making a beeline for their table. Squip says, “He’s seen us.”  
And then all hell breaks loose.  
Dustin slams a hand down on their table. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite freaks,” he spits. Squip has spent a wonderful total of about three and a half seconds with him and he already wants to strangle Dustin.  
“Shut up, Kropp,” Michael snaps heatedly.  
“Keep your damn mouth shut, faggot,” Dustin shoots back. Michael visibly recoils as if burned and Jeremy loses all color in his face. Squip’s hands twitch under the table. He keeps his eyes glued to his lap, but Dustin’s insults start grinding at his nerves.  
“Gotta say, I really wasn’t happy with what you two did to my car. Thought maybe I’d repay the favor and redecorate yours, Heere. How about that?”  
“Don't touch his fucking car, you asshole,” Michael growls, getting out of his seat. Dustin makes a patronizing cooing noise.  
“Aww,” he says. “Are you defending your boyfriend? Cute.”  
Jeremy finally speaks, his face turning several shades of pink. “How about you go fuck yourself, Dustin?” He makes to stand, but Dustin forcibly places a hand on his shoulder and shoves Jeremy back into his seat. Squip’s resolve to stay quiet snaps and he stands up so suddenly his chair almost falls over.  
“Hey, asshat,” he growls. “You wanna rethink that before I redecorate your face? I think you’d look a little less ugly in black and blue.”  
Dustin laughs outright, and Squip doesn’t exactly blame him. Squip is tiny, a little less than five foot seven, and Dustin towers at over six feet. However, burning rage might make up the height difference, and Squip has plenty of that.  
“What’s this? Another loser to join your sorry little gang?” The bully sneers. Squip resists the urge to kick him in the shin, or better, the balls. That is, if he had any.  
“Shut up and fuck off or you’re gonna regret it,” is all Squip says, every ounce of hot adrenaline-fueled anger poured into that statement. Dustin snorts.  
“Make me, freak,” he says, and Squip sees red.  
It turns out, Dustin does have balls, at least in the physical sense, because the moment Squip’s foot connects with the teen’s groin, he howls in pain and falls to the ground. Squip stares in shock as the bully writhes. Jeremy and Michael do as well, before Jeremy says in a high voice, “What the actual fuck, dude! You didn’t have to kill him!”  
Michael runs a hand over his face. “Oh my god, we are so _fucked_...”  
Squip just shakes his head numbly. There is now way in hell he just... no, this can’t be happening.  
People start staring as Dustin staggers up, groaning. Squip gives a silent look of horror to Jeremy, who in turn gives one to Michael. The dark-haired boy looks between them for a second.  
“I don’t have a plan!” He says indignantly.  
“Make one!” Squip insists. Michael looks around frantically, before just throwing his hands up.  
_“Run!”_  
\---  
“I blame you, Squip!” Jeremy pants as they make a mad dash through the parking lot for the car. Dustin started following about ten seconds after they booked it, so they haven’t got much of a head start. The bully is spouting angry curses as he chases them.  
“What?! Why?” Squip demands. Jeremy scoffs.  
“Oh, don’t ‘what why’ me, dude! You literally kicked him in the balls!”  
“Well he deserved it!” Squip points out in defense. Michael reaches the car first and unlocks the Cruiser. Squip and Jeremy clamber inside and barely have the doors closed before Michael speeds out of the parking lot, leaving behind a fuming Dustin Kropp.  
They drive in a few minutes of sweaty, tired silence, before Jeremy turns around and says, “Squip, you’re so grounded.”  
“What?! You can’t ground me!” Squip retorts. Jeremy opens his mouth.  
“Y-Yes, I can!”  
Michael chimes in, “Yes, he can.”  
“Wha— this is discrimination!” Squip argues.  
“How, exactly, is that discrimination?” Jeremy rolls his eyes.  
Squip leans forward, pointing an accusatory finger. “This is discrimination against machines!”  
“Oh my God.” Jeremy buries his face in his hands, shaking with silent laughter. “Just... just shut up.”  
“Two against one, Windows 10,” Michael says coolly. “You’re grounded.”  
“Rude,” Squip pouts goodnaturedly. A smile still creeps into his face as he stares out the window, staring as cars and people roll by. Suddenly, Michael stops them, not at his or Jeremy’s homes, but at an arcade. Squip unbuckles his seatbelt and leans forward.  
“Sorry, but can I ask what we’re doing here?” Squip asks. Michael quietly mumbles, “Correction, Heere,” and Jeremy gives him a playful punch on the shoulder.  
“Okay, in all seriousness,” Jeremy says. “We’re here to meet someone.” Squip feels a bit of nervousness at that. Who would they be meeting at an arcade? And why bring Squip along?  
You can’t trust Jeremy, the dark voice whispers. Squip shakes his head to clear it and follows the boys out of the car.  
\---

It turns out to be a lot less awful than Squip was expecting. Michael heads off into some back corner to get whatever it is they came for (vintage soda, probably) and Jeremy takes Squip aside.  
“We need to talk,” his former hosts says. Squip tries not to let those words strike fear in him. They still do. “I... won’t deny that you’ve done some pretty messed up shit, okay? And that’s still— it’s still there, neither of us are over that yet. But you can’t make yourself miserable about it 24/7, because that’s no way to live, and I would know, I did it too. And—“  
“What?” Squip asks, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, you ‘did it too’?”  
Jeremy runs a hand through his wavy brown hair. “Look, I did the exact same thing after the play. Beat myself up every time I felt happy, told myself I wasn’t allowed to enjoy being around the people I hurt. It fucked me up, badly, and I’m not gonna sit back and watch you do it to yourself. So just...let yourself be better. Please.”  
Squip bites his lower lip, and then stops, realizing he’s done that so much that it’s starting to damage the skin. “Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’ll try.”  
Jeremy pauses, his face showing that he’s obviously struggling with something, before Squip is suddenly encompassed in a warm hug. It takes him a second to react, but he puts his arms around Jeremy back. “Thanks, Jeremy,” he murmurs, then pulls back. “You know, I don’t say that enough.”  
“Huh?”  
“Thanks. I don’t thank you very often for... all this. Putting up with me, saving me."  
Jeremy shrugs. “At this point, you don’t really need to.” He holds up a curled fist. Squip is momentarily confused, but then makes a small, “Oh!”  
He curls his fist and bumps it against Jeremy’s.  
\---  
“Squip, we need to change your bandages.” Jeremy says almost as soon as Squip has set foot inside the house. Michael shushes him.  
“Do you want your dad to hear?” Jeremy jumps and mutters under his breath, “Oh shit.”  
Squip rolls his eyes. “Guys, he’s asleep.” They all pause and Squip is proved correct when they hear snores issuing from the living room. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief and Jeremy says, “Okay, come on.”  
Squip preemptively began pulling off off his jacket, and recoils. The smell of blood and sweat stick to the fabric. Jeremy also notices.  
“Okay,” his former host— friend? Could he use that word yet?— also notices and scrunches up his nose. “First things first, take a shower. You smell like death.” Squip sticks out his tongue and Jeremy rolls his eyes back. He holds open the door to the bathroom. “Just get in there.”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Squip mutters. “Mom.” Jeremy shuts the door behind him and Squip is left alone for the first time today. Probably for a few days. It’s... nice. Unsettling. Both.  
Squip tugs off his clothes. The air is freezing and he wraps his arms around himself, trying to keep from shivering too hard. With trembling fingers he peels away the days-old bandages, wincing when it stings. He tosses them in the trash. Jeremy yells through the door, “Turn the handle left for hot water, okay?” Squip shouts back an affirmation back and leans into the shower, pulling back the curtain. He steps inside and cranks the handle all the way to the left.  
“Agh! Fucking— hot, hot, _hot_!” Squip yelps and pushes the handle back to halfway. The water stops feeling like liquid fire and he drops his head back against the wall, sighing. The steam in the air clings to his skin and hair. Squip steps into the water and shuts his eyes, running his fingers over his face. The water takes off an outer layer of blood and sweat. His injuries sting and Squip resists the urge to jump out of the water, because he knows keeping wounds clean will help him tremendously in the long run, even if it feels awful now. He scans Jeremy’s shower for hair products, finding them in the corner. Making sure to use the right kind of product (he’d very narrowly stopped Jeremy from washing his hair with body wash multiple times as his squip), he squeezes out a quarter-sized amount of shampoo. It begins to turn to foam as soon as Squip rubs his hands together and he starts to gently massage it into his now-soaking wet black hair. The soap continues to bubble and foam up—  
His eyes erupt into a burning sensation, and Squip cries out, a hand jerking down to his face. Squip feels a cascade of soap bubbles run down his fingers and he groans. Of course he got soap in his eyes... Squip pushes all the froth away from his face and steps into the water, struggling not to sputter. After a moment of drowning his stinging eyes, the pain fades and Squip opens them again. His vision is blurry at first, but a few blinks later he can see. He gingerly rinses the rest of the soap from his hair, making sure to keep his head tilted back.  
Squip steps out of the shower and his hit by a wave of cold air. Immediately his entire body begins to shiver and he snatches the first towel he sees, using it to soak away the water droplets clinging to his pale skin. Squip attacks his mess of wet curls with the towel until they stop dripping water on his neck. Upon looking in the mirror, he cringes; his hair, now free of grime and oil, it even more of a poofy mess. It takes several minutes just to make them all lay flat, so he doesn’t really bother with trying to wrangle them into some sort of style. That’s a problem for tomorrow’s Squip. Today’s Squip wants to put his jacket back—  
His jacket and the other clothes are gone, replaced new ones from the trip to the mall. Squip looks around frantically for it, but there’s nothing. Trying to ignore the whispers in the back of his head that ‘it’s just a stupid jacket’, Squip tugs on the new clothes (admittedly, they feel nice) and fixes a stray bit of his hair one last time before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping out into the hall.  
Jeremy isn’t there (of course, why would he be? If he waited that would just make things weird again), so Squip continues into the hall, closing the door behind him and looking in both directions. Nothing. He hears a faint noise downstairs, vaguely like a voice, and decides to follow it.  
Squip carefully tiptoes down the carpeted stairs, trying not to make them creak at all, and peeks around the corner. Jeremy, his father, and Michael are in the kitchen, laughing about something and smiling. He feels suddenly like an impostor in this happy moment, all sense of belonging lost. But before he can think of running back upstairs and curling up in a corner, the stair he stands on decides now is the time to creak.  
“Oh, hey!” His former host calls. “Squip, you’re alive! I was getting worried.” Jeremy is smiling at him, like they’re friends, like Squip didn’t ruin his life. He finds himself giving a small smile back, but nothing more. Mr. Heere laughs.  
“Squip? What kind of a nickname is that?” Jeremy stiffens and Squip’s rolls his eyes.  
“It’s kind of a funny story,” he explains quietly. “And a long one. Not something to get into now.” Mr. Heere shrugs.  
“Sure, but you’ll owe me a story, then,” the man says. “So, do you want something to eat?”  
Squip feels his stomach twist up. “N-no sir,” he stammers. Ugh, he has to get rid of that lame-ass stutter. “I get sick easily. A drink will just be fine.”  
Mr. Heere gives him a sympathetic look and Squip tries not to feel too bad about lying. They’re just white lies. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right? “Of course. Grab anything you like.”  
Squip takes a Mountain Dew from the fridge and actually gets the cap open on the first try. He sticks his tongue out at Jeremy when the boy looks surprised. “Where are my old clothes?” He demands as nonchalantly as he can. Jeremy seems to be taken by surprise by the question and shrugs.  
“I’m washing them, why?” He asks.  
Squip feels an odd sort of embarrassment rise up in his and heat rushes to his face. “Um... Can I have the jacket back, please?”  
“Sorry, dude, it’s washing too,” Jeremy says. “What’s the big deal?”  
“O-oh, it’s not that important...” It’s just that that Squip feels safer with it on, like a security blanket turned into a piece of clothing. “It just makes me feel... safe. Y’know?” God, what was he doing, saying sappy, pathetic shit like this? The dark voice spits, _Defective loser_.  
Squip shudders. Defective. It’s been a while since he’s heard that one... Doesn’t seem to have lost its sting, or its relevance, though, because he is just a bug-ridden piece of faulty machinery that deserves to be shut down—  
“Squip?” Jeremy asks, drawing him from his trance. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”  
Squip shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah... just nervous about, uh, school. And all that.”  
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jeremy says. “Just don’t overthink it, okay?” Squip nods reluctantly, staring at the ground. Don’t do that, the dark voice commands. It makes you look like a loser. Do you want to look like a loser? Squip stares forward instead, trying to keep his back straight. No, he doesn’t, but he certainly feels like one. Squip realizes with a bit of shock that he misses being a supercomputer. It was like he knew everything, and there wasn’t any fear or guilt or pain. Just power, endless control over his domain. He was so sure of every decision.  
_Of course I was_ , Squip thinks ruefully. _Being brainwashed and all, I wasn’t even_ capable _of doubting myself_. He feels like he wants to throw up the sugary serum of Mountain Dew that he’s been pumping into himself. Squip quietly interrupts the conversation that’s been going on around him.  
“Excuse me, but I’m not feeling well... if it’s alright, I’d like to go to bed now.”  
Everyone stares at him for a second, before Mr. Heere says, “O-oh. Of course you can. Do you need any medicine?”  
“No, thank you,” Squip replies softly. “I’d just like to rest.”  
“Alright,” Mr. Heere concedes, though he still sounds worried. “If you don’t feel better in the morning, I can contact the school for you.”  
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr. Heere,” he says over his shoulder as he heads for the stairs. “I’ll feel fine in the morning.”  
Jeremy looks worried, and surprising even Michael shows a modicum of concern, but Squip offers not further explanation as he ascends the stairs. He makes a beeline for Jeremy’s room. His little nest of blankets and pillows sits untouched in the corner. Squip takes a moment to rearrange them into a nicer pile. He tenderly makes sure the Eminem shirt is tucked away. Squip feels wrong to keep it, like he’s stealing something, but he can’t bring himself it just throw it away. No matter how pathetic it is, he wants to keep something from when Jeremy was his host.  
Squip sighs deeply. He curls up under the thickest blanket and stares into darkness until his eyes slide closed.  
\---  
Squip and Jeremy have to catch the bus on Monday morning.  
Literally, _catch_ it, because they spend so much time stressing they almost miss it. Thank God, though, they make it and Jeremy takes him to a seat not to far in the back but still far enough. Back-ish middle, Squip guesses.  
He curls his hands around the straps of the backpack Jeremy dredged up for him from earlier years. What feels like several metric tons worth of notebooks and about three textbooks weighs down on his shoulders.  
“Gah, my spine already feels like shit,” he grumbles. Jeremy gives a short bark of laughter. Squip plops himself down next to Jeremy on the bus seat. His former host has already taken the window seat, but Squip doesn’t mind.  
A familiar hulking figure climb onto the bus: Dustin Kropp. Squip stiffens, half-expecting trouble, but instead Dustin takes a seat in the front. Squip breathes a sigh of relief.  
“What?” Jeremy asks worriedly. Squip hisses back, “Dustin got on. He’s up front, though.”  
Jeremy peeks over the seat in front of him and cringes, probably having spotted Dustin’s awful-looking gelled blonde hair. “Shit,” the brunet swears. “Alright, well, we were gonna have to deal with him sooner or later, anyway. Let’s just try and avoid him as much as we can.”  
Squip nods. If he’d been programmed to know school was this nervewracking, he might’ve been more understanding of Jeremy’s desire to not be noticed. His hands move ceaselessly, and something inside Squip is revolted at himself.  
_Look at you_ , the dark voice growls. _Sitting here panicking over bullies and fidgeting like a total loser. This is why you’re better off shut down, defect._  
Squip flinches. There’s a word he hasn’t heard in a while. Since when did 2 last visit his dreams nightmares? Squip feels his chest constrict more after the dark voice speaks, adrenaline rushing through his blood now. Squip bites his already sore and chapped lip, working it between his teeth until a sharp taste of copper floods his tongue. He coughs and realizes that blood now leaks from a small split in his lower lip. Squip groans and licks away the crimson, salty fluid, ignoring how it stings. Jeremy, naturally, catches on to his small jump and the sharp intake of breath as soon as it happens.  
“Shit, are you okay?”  
Squip rolls his eyes, exasperated at Jeremy’s worried expression. “It’s a split lip, nothing to have an aneurysm over. His former host looks skeptical, so Squip adds, “Look, it’s stopped bleeding already, see? I’ll be fine.”  
“You seem really nervous,” Jeremy observes. Squip bites back a scathing remark along the lines of, _No shit, Sherlock_.  
“Yeah,” he admits as casually as possible. “I guess I am.”  
“Why?” Jeremy seems genuinely concerned, how cute.  
“It’ll be fine, really,” He insists. “It’s just the first day, that’s all.” Jeremy reluctantly takes that explanation with a slow nod. Squip breathes a sigh of relief. Just the first day. That’s all he has to get through, for now.  
The bus pulls up to Middle Borough High and comes to a screeching halt. Squip gives an uncertain look to Jeremy, who smiles back.  
“Just the first day,” Squip mutters through clenched teeth.  
(Break)  
Inside Middle Borough, it’s loud and overwhelming. Squip wants to cover his ears to keep out the din, but it wouldn’t do much good, and would also make him look like a loser, so he has to endure going deaf instead.  
Jeremy keeps a hand on his shoulder as he leads Squip to the office. People bump into him and more than once he feels one of the wounds protest to being jostled around. Squip hates the feeling of being so closed in. If he were attacked, there would be nowhere to run or hide in the mass of people. It’s hard to breathe or think, so Squip tries his best to keep his eyes glued ahead of him, on an imaginary horizon line.  
Jeremy tugs him around a corner and Squip breathes again. This hallway is much less populated. Squip realizes that’s because there aren’t any classes; just the nurse and the office. They stop outside the latter.  
“So, you’ve got the papers Mikey made, right?” Squip wordlessly nods. Jeremy continues, saying, “Okay, give them to me, I’ll do the talking.” Squip takes his backpack off, glad to give his spine a rest. He’ll have permanent damage by the end of this, mark his words. Squip shuffles around for the papers, but before handing them over he says, “Shouldn’t I handle this? I am, after all, the one programmed to talk to people.”  
Jeremy scoffs. “You don’t seem very put-together right now, Squip.”  
“Just... I think I can do this,” Squip says, quieter and more intense. For some reason, he wants to take charge and be independent. His heart is set on it now. Jeremy shrugs.  
“If you’re sure.”  
Squip is, so he pushes open the door to the office ~~after pulling a couple times, since he didn’t see the sign~~ and walks over to a dark-haired receptionist who doesn’t look much older than Squip or Jeremy.  
“How can I help you?” She asks.  
“I’m a new student,” Squip says with a confidence that startles himself. “I need to make sure everything is in order.” She looks up, apparently interested now in him. Her eyes (green, he notes) flick down to the papers he holds. She holds out a hand, long fake nails glinting in the fluorescent light. Squip hands the paperwork over and Receptionist scans each page. Squip studies her desk absently.  
She hands back the papers. “Sorry, but I need to talk to a parent or guardian for safe measure.” Squip visibly wilts, and she looks more sympathetic. “It’s protocol, honey. Nothing I can do.”  
Squip feels Jeremy tug on his sleeve, probably signaling for them to leave, but Squip leans forward, looking Receptionist in the eyes. Her small metal nameplate reads Cherry Gray. “Well, Ms. Gray,” he starts sweetly. “Can’t you make an exception, just once? I’m in a bit of tight spot here,” Squip lowers his voice, “So it would really help if you’d just let it slide for now. Everything is in those papers, right?”  
“Well, yes,” Cherry says. “But...”  
“Then what’s the problem?” Squip asks innocently. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He tries to make his voice as reassuring and soothing as possible, drawing on every trick that worked on Jeremy. It’s better now, because he’s doing it for a good reason. It isn’t like he’s hurting anyone. “I’ll get my parents here as soon as I can, but they’ll be... really upset if I’m not in school by today. So just... help me out, please?” He adds a pleading tone to his voice. Squip feels a slight bit of guilt at the expression on her face, but he shoves that away. This is necessary. Cherry worries her bottom lip with her teeth, then sighs.  
“Okay, honey,” she says in a resigned voice. “I really hope things get better for you.” She turns to her computer and types for about a minute before handing back the stack of papers. The printer behind her comes to life and spits out a sheet of paper, which Cherry also hands to him. “Now, hurry. You don’t want to be late to your first class.”  
“Thank you,” Squip replies sweetly. Jeremy rugs on his sleeve again.  
“Dude, lets go, we’re gonna be late,” he insists. Squip rolls his eyes.  
“Okay, okay...” Jeremy practically drags him out the door. Once it swings shut, his former host rounds on him.  
“Squip, what was that? You, like, sweet-talked her into breaking the rules!” Jeremy asks. Squip raises an eyebrow.  
“I just... looked at her desk, really. She didn’t have any pictures of her family or parents, right? So I thought maybe I could appeal to her if it sounded like I didn’t have a good relationship with my parents, since it would make sense not to have pictures if your parents weren’t very close.”  
“Squip... that’s kind of a bad thing to do,” Jeremy chides.  
Squip shifts on his feet uncomfortably. “Yeah, I know... but that’s really all I know how to do. Bad things.”  
“Nah, man,” Jeremy nudges his shoulder. “I mean... I’ve seen people do a lot worse. Besides, how did you even know that she’d react like that?“  
Squip shrugs. “Another part of my programming is observation. I simply... made an educated guess.”  
“Like... an inference?”  
“Yes, Jeremy, an inference. It seems nearly twelve years of education haven’t been completely wasted on you.”  
Jeremy shoves him playfully. “Oh, fuck off, Sherlock. I still can’t believe I’m only learning about all your cool powers now.”  
"I do not have _powers_ ," Squip sighs. "I'm not an X-Man."  
"You could be, though! Squip totally sounds like a name from the X-Men!"  
"Just shut up and help me find my class, Jeremy."


	16. A wild Update appears!

So, it’s me, and I’m not dead!   
Yay!   
I’m super sorry that a) I have to keep making updates to tell you guys how far along I am, since I have no self control and procrastinate so much I could break a world record, and b) the next chapter is taking so long!   
I promise it’s in the works, and it’ll be a good one, at least I hope so...  
Side note, have any of you thought of a fandom name for y’all? (Are there even enough of your regular readers to constitute a fandom? Well, I think so at least). It’d be great to have something to address you peeps as.   
Until next time!   
Indee


	17. Fine and Cool and Not-Entirely-Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squip steps into his first class. It looks like a stereotypical science class: various instruments line the counters that border three of the four walls, and cabinets hang above the counter. He takes a few steps forward, but is soon stopped by an Asian woman a few inches shorter than him. She gives Squip a smile so warm he feels like it might light him on fire. She must be Ms. Hsu, he realizes.  
> “You must be Nathan!” Ms. Hsu says cheerfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note: the teachers are all named after the original cast as a tribute to them! and since they techincally now exist in the same universe as their characters, just pretend that the teachers don't look _exactly_ like the kids because that would be plain weird if they did
> 
> so so so sorry this is so late; I've been procrastinating on this one for weeks trying to figure out if I should put a ~important plot~ into play yet or wait ;) that's why it's so short. I took out a giant chunk of it to rewrite. again, so sorry and thanks for your patience and support!
> 
> One last thing! I'm proud to announce the official fandom name is Originals! Unless you guys want to change it, that is.

Squip and Jeremy find a small sanctuary from the torrent of students and find out which teachers Squip has. Jeremy whistles. “Dude, you’re so lucky! Ms. Hsu is the best science teacher!” Squip shrugs.  
“Lucky me, then,” he replies, but Jeremy is already continuing down the schedule.  
“Okay, dude, you’re either the luckiest guy in our grade or you’ve got friends in high places. You got Hsu, Salazar, and Iconis. This is so not fair...” Jeremy perks up. “Oh, well, you do still have Gretch for math. Guess you’re not that lucky.”  
“I don’t want to be lucky,” Squip says voice on the edge of whine. “I want to be normal.”  
“Dude, your eyes glow, you’re still a ways away from—“ Suddenly, the warning bell drowns out Jeremy’s words and they both jumps Jeremy thrusts the schedule upon Squip. “Okay, your class in on this hall, so I can get you there, but after that you’re on your own.” He grabs Squip by the wrist. “C’mon!” Squip stumbles after his former host into the throng of students. Jeremy is much more adept at dodging people, though something in the back of Squip’s mind twinges as if he remembers how to do it himself. Squip stares at Jeremy’s Converse and tries not to feel claustrophobic from the walls of humans squishing him. He’s fine. He’s fine.  
Jeremy deposits him outside a science class. Ms. Hsu, he had said. Squip gave him a final desperate look, to which Jeremy responded, “I know, dude, with any luck you won’t have to do this for long. I’ll see you later, okay?” Squip barely has time to nod back before Jeremy is gone, swallowed up by a writhing mass of human bodies.  
Squip steps into his first class. It looks like a stereotypical science class: various instruments line the counters that border three of the four walls, and cabinets hang above the counter. He takes a few steps forward, but is soon stopped by an Asian woman a few inches shorter than him. She gives Squip a smile so warm he feels like it might light him on fire. She must be Ms. Hsu, he realizes.  
“You must be Nathan!” Ms. Hsu says cheerfully. “It’s a pleasure to have you here. Would you mind introducing yourself to the class once everyone it here?” Students are still filing in. Only a few give him sidelong glances, their way of acknowledging his existence, Squip guesses. He tries not to feel the heat of eyes on his skin too much.  
“Actually, ma’am,” he says, putting on his sweetest, most innocent smile. “I was hoping not to make too much of a spectacle. I move around a lot, see, and it starts to get old, introducing yourself over and over again.”  
Ms. Hsu’s smile turns sympathetic. “Of course, honey,” she says. Something in Squip stirs. It could be his mother said honey like that, or his favorite teacher. “Your desk is the empty one in the second row. Go ahead and take a seat.”  
Squip thanks her and flops into the chair as graciously as his already stressed body will let him. He unpacks a few things from his bag; pencils, a fresh notebook— he loves the look of the pages, pristine and blank— and an empty black binder, his fake name penned on in silver Sharpie. Squip runs a slender finger over that name. Nathan Forrest. Nathan Forrest. Nathan Forrest. Maybe if he repeats it enough it’ll start to stick. Not yet, of course. He still feels like Squip, not Nathan. But maybe Nathan, whoever he was before, could come back.  
He’s not sure he really wants that.  
Squip shakes himself, deciding now is not the time to dwell on his convoluted past. Now is the time to observe, patient and unassuming in the second row of a science classroom.  
That is, until roll call.  
Ms. Hsu, despite knowing he is already there, calls his name nonetheless. He doesn’t fault her for it; a new name on the list would throw her off if she didn’t treat it like every other and announce it to the room. Squip raises a hand and says in a firm but quiet voice, “Here.” Unbidden, a thought of Jeremy’s roll call dilemma rises in his mind and Squip hides a small smile by directing his face toward his desk. Other students twist around in their chairs with a complete lack of subtlety to crane their necks and peer curiously at this new boy with wavy black hair, oddly luminous blue eyes, and pale skin. He doesn’t lock eyes with anyone, because that always makes him feel like he’s invaded someone’s space. However, whispers sweep the room, and now he feels invaded instead. Squip fights the feeling of wanting to sink into the floor. He will not act like some sniveling loser who can’t handle the slightest bit of attention.  
Ms. Hsu moves on with roll without announcing Squip, as per his request. Silently, he thanks whatever God is up there that his first teacher is a nice one. She starts speaking and Squip tries to both pay actual attention and also take note of the teacher herself. She’s obviously liked by the class. They almost all seem to care about the lesson. He’s surprised, to say the least. Most teens wouldn’t give a teacher, even a nice one, a second glance once the lesson began.  
The lesson itself is easy, considering that they’re almost three quarters of the way done with Jeremy’s junior year. It’s notes on a new unit: Nuerology. Squip does perk up with interest. Science is something his computer-brain understands and can get on board with. Facts, cold and hard, tangible until you get into quantum physics, though as a Squip he understood that too.  
Squip writes dutifully down everything she does, from definitions to a diagram detailing the different lobes of the brain and their functions. From this, he gleans a lot about the parts of the brain, and suddenly the science talk makes the way his memories are all muddled and erased sensible, in a loose sense of the term. As in, he partially understands would might’ve been done to him to make his brain work ~~or, rather, not work~~ like this.  
The parts of the brain break down into smaller and smaller pieces as you get deeper into each part’s function, but for now he knows with fair certainty what has probably been tampered with; the amygdala, the control center for responses to certain memories or stimuli, has probably been conditioned to give reactions to certain words, actions and sights, based on how Squip instinctively reacts to words like _loser_ or _defective_ so negatively. Those words are associated with pain, he realizes. Physical or mental, those words make his brain think of hurt.  
Next, he decides that his neurotransmitters have also been tampered with. They connect neurons, and while they might not sound powerful, he learns through Ms. Hsu’s inadvertent enlightenment that they can be strengthened or weakened depending on how often they have to transmit information. This probably means, Squip thinks, that the neurotransmitters connecting neurons in his amygdala have been strengthened and weakened to cause stronger reactions to certain stimuli.  
By the end of the period, Squip is half confused and half feels like he’s won some sort of battle with his own brain. The complicated nature of what he’s trying to grasp makes his head hurt, but Squip gets the basics down: at least two parts of his brain have been tampered with to change how he reacts to things. It doesn’t explain the memory gaps, but putting a reason to the problem makes it feel more solvable.  
Feeling significantly better about his situation, Squip actually has a smile on his face when he gets up and leaves the classroom as the bell rings.  
If only he knew what was waiting for him.  
\---  
Social Studies is his fourth period class, and the teacher is pretty great here too. He’s a total Broadway fanatic, but the students like him for a different reason; he never gives homework. Squip admits that he doesn’t have as much hated for work as the next student (work means busy, and busy means not dwelling on crushing guilt), but having a class he can slack off on somehow makes school feel better.  
Besides, Mr. Salazar, who lets students call him George and will read anything they write, is a pretty damn cool teacher. Squip can tell he must been a theater student (his singing voice could put professionals to shame).  
George insists that Squip doesn’t need to make up any work, which Squip only half-appreciates. If he’s behind, it’ll screw up his master plan to slip under the radar of everyone here, but he doesn’t argue the point. George assures him it won’t be a problem. Squip almost believes him.  
Next is Iconis, who from what Squip can tell, is best friends with George. They both fawn over Broadway together, evidenced by the many posters lining both their classroom walls.  
Mr. Iconis teaches English. He takes attendance from the front of the classroom behind his wide desk.  
“Hill?”  
“Here.”  
“Kelly?”  
“Here.”  
So on until, “Rolan?”  
Silence fills the classroom. He calls again: “Jenna Rolan? Anyone seen Jenna?”  
“She’s been absent all day, I think,” a girl at the front of class says timidly. Mr. Iconis frowns.  
“Strange,” he remarks, then shrugs and forges on calling names.  
“Forrest? Nathan Forrest?”  
“Here,” Squip calls. Mr. Iconis looks up at him.  
“Ah, yes,” he says. “New student, everyone. This is Nathan.”  
“Hey,” Squip raises his hand lazily, but he looks around, just enough to look interested but bored. One of the social rules is giving the impression you care about your peers. Whether you do or not is irrelevant; it’s all about the front you put up.  
\---  
Three more classes pass by, and a second time Jenna Rolan is absent when roll is called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a kudos and comment!


	18. Sirius, a Real Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to be friends.” He says, so soft he isn’t sure Jeremy hears, though his former host does.  
> “I know,” Jeremy replies, and Squip looks at him in shock. “I’ve spent a long time wanting to be close to people I never thought would even look twice at me, I know what it looks like in other people by now too.”  
> “Oh,” Squip says, but it’s a heavy ‘oh’, filled with things he wants to say that he can’t work up the courage to. “Do you think they’ll always chase me?”  
> “Are you scared about it?” Jeremy asks, and it’s the sincerity that hurts the most.  
> “Scared?” Squip echoes derisively. Then, quieter; “I’m terrified.”  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took so LONG IM SO SORRY  
> writing is hard ;-;  
> also 300 KUDOS?!?!?!?! Thats insane!

Jeremy slides him a piece of paper. “Help.”  
“Help, _please_ ,” Squip chides, turning to paper to face him. “This is calculus homework.”  
“Yeah, so?” Jeremy shoots back defensively. Squip internally cringes, but gives him a sharp look.  
“So, you’ve been faring fine without my help so far. I’d hate to break your streak.”  
“Squip,” Jeremy whines, and Squip rolls his eyes. “It’s hard, and you’re... y’know, a supercomputer!”  
“Was a supercomputer,” he corrects. “And anyway, while my programming could perform calculations that make this look like child’s play, my human brain cannot, and to be frank I am also quite confused as well. I suggest you ask Christine, she is quite adept at math.”  
“What?”  
Squip sighs. “I don’t get it either, Jeremy. Ask someone else.” Jeremy flops onto the table with a dramatic huff.  
“Well, if it’s too hard for you, I’m really screwed...” Jeremy laments. “I’ll just not turn it, maybe Gretch won’t take it for a grade.”  
“Jeremy,” Squip snaps, glaring at his former host. “You will turn that assignment in, or I will tell Christine about the letters you wrote her.”  
Jeremy sputters. His face turns bright red. “You- You wouldn’t!”  
“Wouldn’t I?” Squip says in an amused voice. Jeremy gives him the finger and returns to his math homework, brooding.  
Squip turns to his own work, absently reading over the textbook pages Ms. Hsu had assigned. Blah, blah, something about the brain stem...  
“Ugh,” Squip announced, letting his head fall with a heavy thunk. Jeremy looks up, raising an eyebrow.  
“You good?”  
“Yeah...” he said, blowing away a curl of black hair in his eyes. It falls right back. “Just bored.”  
“Me too,” Jeremy replies, stretching his arms above his head. “Wanna go out?”  
“Thought you had a thing for Michael,” Squip teases. Jeremy coughed, his face turning a deep shade of pink.  
“I do not have a thing for Michael!” His former host protests. “And you know how I meant that!”  
Squip does, but he cracks a smile at Jeremy and got up. “I guess this can wait...” Science homework was boring, sure, but Squip was reluctant to slack off. What if he forgot something, or got all the questions wrong because he stayed up too late? What if his first grades were bad ones?  
“Squip? Still with me?” Jeremy’s pierces through the tide of thoughts and refocus Squip into reality. He shakes his head to clear it.  
“How about we go look at the stars?” Squip blurts. Jeremy looks surprised and he feels a slight blush rise on his cheeks. “It’s was just an idea,” he mumbles defensively.  
Jeremy gives him an indulgent smile. “No, it’s fine. That’s sound cool.”  
\---  
Jeremy leads the way to wherever the hell they’re going, letting Squip tilt his head back and stare up at the vast array of glittering dots in the sky. Statistically he knows that many of them are satellites (there is AT&T’s now), but he can spot Sirius, a real star, as well.  
Squip stiffens at the mental slip of them tongue. “That’s Sirius, a real star,” he mutters. Jeremy perks up in front of him.  
“Did you say something?” He asks. Squip shrugs.  
“Just thinking aloud,” he replies softly. The hush of the night bears down on him and makes him feel small. Every passing car and barking dog is magnified by the stretch of soundlessness between.  
Jeremy stops walking suddenly and Squip narrowly avoids bumping into him. “Here,” he says, pointing at a broken wood gate. “There’s an old orchard here; Michael and I used to come as kids.”  
Squip feels something stir in his chest, like a disturbed animal, at the mention of Michael. It is a mix of envy and reassurance. Anywhere Jeremy would take Michael must be a safe place.  
Maybe if he brings Squip here it means they are friends.  
In a burst of spontaneity, he asks.  
“Are we friends?”  
Jeremy is taken aback by the question. “Uh... yeah, I would say so. You can’t hide someone from evil scientists and not become friends, so...?” He awkwardly trails off and forges ahead. Squip curses internally. He just had to go and make it awkward, didn’t he?  
Jeremy stops on a hill where the trees don’t grow. The smell of leaves and fruit still permeate, but they aren’t as overpowering in the clearing. Jeremy lays on his back, staring up at the inky sky. Squip lies down next to him.  
“I want to be friends.” He says, so soft he isn’t sure Jeremy hears, though his former host does.  
“I know,” Jeremy replies, and Squip looks at him in shock. “I’ve spent a long time wanting to be close to people I never thought would even look twice at me, I know what it looks like in other people by now too.”  
“Oh,” Squip says, but it’s a heavy ‘oh’, filled with things he wants to say that he can’t work up the courage to. “Do you think they’ll always chase me?”  
“Are you scared about it?” Jeremy asks, and it’s the sincerity that hurts the most.  
“Scared?” Squip echoes derisively. Then, quieter; “I’m terrified.”  
Jeremy hums. “I can tell,” he replies.  
“Why ask if you can tell?” Squip demands, though without venom.  
“To see if you can tell, too.” Squip stops talking, now actually looking up at the stars. They glimmer with a detached beauty, so pretty yet so far off.  
He looks at Sirius again, and Sirius glitters back unfeelingly.  
_You are inconsequential_ , whispers the star. _You do not matter. M/i >_  
Squip stares back at it. “Most stars probably dead anyway, what do you know?” He gripes. Jeremy looks at him, confused.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Hush, Jeremy,” Squip says without breaking his gaze from the sky. “I’m talking to a star.” Jeremy sniggers but stays silent, respecting Squip’s conversation with Sirius.  
_You will never fully remember yourself_ , the star hissed. Squip closes his eyes, but the burned image of the specks of light dance on the back of his eyelids. They sparkle like miniature fireworks in a dark sea.  
“Jeremy?” Squip asks.  
“Done talking to a star now?” His former host whispers. Squip gives him a playful punch and Jeremy reciprocates.  
“I’m sorry,” Squip says, his voice somber and vulnerable. The one-sided dialogue between him and Sirius has wrought a wide gash through his mental dam, and the held-back waters of fear and doubt are gushing through.  
Squip hears rustling next to him and opens his eyes. Jeremy is looking at him with that intense expression that he makes when he’s serious about something.  
“I know,” Jeremy says. “I understand, trust me.” Squip felt his eyes sting in that annoying way they do before he cries and he takes a deep breath to try and keep from going over the edge. Jeremy edges closer to him.  
“There’s something I want to know, though,” Jeremy starts timidly. “Why did you do it?”  
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Squip says, though he knows exactly what Jeremy is asking.  
“Why were you... evil?”  
Squip can’t help but tug the corner of his mouth up in a smile. “I was not evil. I was... misguided. My programming was very specific when it came to the goals of my creators against my host’s; at the time, it was impossible for me to doubt what I was doing because I was forced to think it right. Of course, I did want to help you, it’s just...”  
“Just what?”  
“I’m defective,” Squip says. His insides twist up as he speaks and Squip feels sick. The dark voice murmurs in the back of his mind, so he stares up at the stars, determined to fill his mind with the lights.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean,” Squip sighs heavily, “that I don’t work right, in relation to other squips. I remembered things from my own life, things that the Corporation failed to wipe from my memory, and those things influenced my decisions.”  
Jeremy pauses. “I still don’t get it.”  
Squip groans. “I don’t either! It’s confusing and I’m still trying to figure it all out myself. I can get a general idea of what was left behind for me to remember; the girl, maybe, or someone else.”  
“W-wait, you had a girl?!” Jeremy demanded. Squip rolled his eyes.  
“Not a girlfriend, you idiot,” he said in exasperation. “I met a girl at the Corporation’s lab and they didn’t bother to fully wipe her from my memory. I don’t even know it she’s important, or alive, for that matter...” The two of them sobered and a heavy silence fell again.  
“Well,” Jeremy said. “What was she like?”  
“Um,” Squip said, closing his eyes. Even with the memories still intact, her face is fuzzy. What was her name? D-something.  
“Duh... Dominque, I think?” Squip says. “She was Asian, and sweet, too. Short black hair. Glasses... looked kind of like Christine, I suppose.”  
“Huh,” Jeremy said. “Yeah, that’s not much to go on. Dominique, right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I can see if there’s something online. Unless you want to find her yourself.”  
Squip frowns to himself. Why would he want that? “No, it’s fine. I’d appreciate the help.”  
“Okay. Uh, cool,” Jeremy says, getting up. “Come on, lets go before it gets too late. You’re gonna feel like shit at school if you don’t get some sleep tonight.”  
Squip glances up at Sirius one last time. Sirius hisses, _You don’t deserve his help._  
Squip glares at the star. “What do you know?” He snaps back. “You’re a ball of basic elements, you don’t have friends either.”  
\---  
_“I knew you’d be back eventually.” Squip hears a cold, robotic voice echo from behind him and he sighs, turning to face 2._  
_“And why’s that?” He replies, feeding the line he knows that the imaginary squip wants him to. 2 gives him an unsettling sharp-toothed grin._  
_“You want to find her,” it says, eyes glinting in that malicious way that is entirely unique to 2._  
_Squip hesitates, his silence speaking for him. “What does it matter if I want to find her, anyway?” He snaps, taking a few steps away from 2 for safe measure. “It’s just as likely she’s ended up like me.”_  
_“Why don’t you find out,” 2 says coyly as the floor drops from beneath Squip and he falls into a memory._  
_The jarring feeling of being thrown into an out-of-body experience quickly fades as Squip frantically has to take in his surroundings. He’s standing in front of himself, his doppelgänger, who is secured to a chair by steep bonds that show deep red stains. His eyes do not yet glow, but they have a slight tint of blue that wasn’t there before. Squip turns to take in the rest of the room. There are two rows of chairs, six to a row, all occupied except for one._  
_It’s the brainwashing room again, he realizes in horror. Squip wills himself to wake up before the screen flickers to life, because when it does he’ll be trapped back in the void that came after Dormancy Mode was activated._  
_His panic skyrockets when the screen lights up, but it doesn’t do anything. Squip stands next to Doppelgänger, frozen in fear, as static fills the wide blank canvas. Squip feels himself phase into Doppelgänger and the rush of sensations is momentarily overwhelming: cold steel bonds that dig into his skin, frigid air and a gnawing hunger._  
_His eyes are trained on the static, but it feels different this time. Soothing. The white noise covers his mind with velvety blankness. His focus slips and Squip feels himself leave Doppelgänger’s point of view, back to floating like a specter nearby. Doppelgänger is slumped over, eyes glazed. Squip hovers awkwardly for what he thinks is about five minutes before a shuffling sound alerts him. He shifts to look as the two men in white lab coats open the door again. Exactly eleven guards enter and hoist up one of the catatonic teens, carrying them out of the room bridal style. Squip feels himself follow and peers with nervous curiosity as the are deposited back in their cells. ___  
_Now’s the chance, he realizes. I can see if Dominique really did get out or not._  
_The guard carrying Doppelgänger stops in front of a cell and the door automatically whooshes open. He sets the unmoving boy down with a surprising gentleness and walks away. Squip can see the edges of his dream-vision flicker, but he casts a desperate glance at the cell next to Doppelgänger’s._  
_It’s empty._  
Jeremy was right; Squip does feel like shit in the morning when he wakes up. If he still had control over small electronics, he would make Jeremy’s alarm clock fry itself. Squip buries himself under a blanket and groans.  
“I know,” Jeremy sighs. “But we’ve gotta get up. Come on.” Squip flops the blanket off himself and staggers to his feet.  
Squip feels the memories of the night unscramble themselves and his breath hitches when the haze finally lifts and he recalls clearly; Dominique had been freed.  
God knows how, or by whom, but free nonetheless.  
Jeremy raises an eyebrow. “What are you smiling about?” He asks with a hint of trepidation. Squip turns to him, quickly dropping the admittedly dopey smile from his face.  
“Dominique,” he replies. “I just remembered something about her.”  
“Uh-huh,” Jeremy says distractedly, pulling a shirt on. Squip bites his lip. Is it really wise to tell... No. He trusts Jeremy.  
“She escaped.”  
Though it was a serious moment, Squip would look back for years and laugh at the shocked expression on Jeremy’s face.  
\---  
Squip struggles to stay awake as Mr. Gretch droned on about quadratics and parabolas and things that make his head hurt more with each passing second. Jeremy was next to him, looking equally bored. The only difference is that Jeremy is the one taking notes today.  
By the third day, Jeremy and Squip have worked out a system. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Squip takes the notes in math class, and Jeremy does Tuesday and Thursday. The other copies the notes during lunch. Squip personally didn’t mind note-taking, but his brain was so fried during first period math that he was eternally grateful for it.  
Jeremy taps him on the arm, a silent reminder than even though Squip doesn’t have to do any work, falling asleep in class will land him in detention. Squip gives his frie— former host a tired nod and straightens up, looking blankly ahead at the whiteboard.  
A small scratching sound draws Squip’s attention and he looks down at Jeremy’s hastily scrawled note on the corner of a blank page.  
_U gonna explain how she escaped yet?_  
Squip glances up at Gretch, who is currently trying and failing to explain how to find the zeroes of a parabola, then writes in a slender, plain print; _At lunch_.  
“Mr. Heere? Mr. Forrest?” Mr. Gretch calls from the front, his teacher powers activated by two students passing notes. “Is there something more important than this lesson you’d like to share with the class.  
There are a million things more important than this lesson, Squip thinks bitterly, but only says, “No, sir.” Next to him, Jeremy looks mortified as the rest of the class titters for a second before Gretch ploughs onward, having filled his quota for calling out students.  
Squip nudges Jeremy. “Hey,” he hisses. “It’s okay. He’s being a dick, don’t worry about it.”  
“Yeah, okay,” Jeremy mumbles back with a blank look in his eyes. Squip sighs, knowing that his former host implodes when the wrong kind of attention is called to him.  
That will be another one-sided conversation for late at night, when Jeremy is asleep and Squip can say whatever he likes without the consequences.  
The bell rings in the middle of Gretch’s lecture and Squip, good student though he may be, vaults out of his desk with startling agility and sprints for the door. His worn Converse squeaking as he slides a bit too far and bumps into the door frame along with the mass of students rushing to escape the confines of math class.  
Jeremy bursts out after him, gently trying to push his way through the crowd. Like some freaking phantom, Christine materializes out of nowhere behind Squip and chirps out a hello. Jeremy greets her while Squip yelps and scrambles behind his former host. Christine giggles. Squip notices her dark hair has a new clip in it: a small blue one in the shape of a feather.  
Squip can’t help it; on instinct, words meant for Jeremy to repeat to Christine slip from his mouth. “Your hair looks nice.” Jeremy gives his a look and the gravity of the mistake he has just made slams into him at the same time Christine processes his words.  
“Um... thanks?” Her expression changes to confused in a flash. Squip thinks if he could keyboard smash with his voice, he would right about now.  
“I meant it for Jeremy to say to you,” he stammers, hiding his burning face in his hands. Jeremy makes a confused noise.  
“But— you— the shit?!”  
Squip feels himself go impossibly red. “I know, it was instinct!” He squeaks. “This environment makes me think I’m in your head again!”  
Jeremy is quiet for a moment, then snickers. “Oh my God,” he breathes, covering his mouth with one hand. Squip fixes him with a glare, thoroughly embarrassed.  
“Christine, I’m so _sorry_ ,” he moans into his palms, insides twisting up and getting cold. How the hell did he make such a stupid mistake?  
“It’s okay,” Christine laughs softly. “I say things out loud on accident all the time. Also, thanks.” She raises a hand to touch the clip. “I wasn’t sure anyone was going to like it.”  
Jeremy smiles at her. “Well, Windows 10 ain’t wrong,” he says. “It’s pretty cute.”  
The warning bell cuts off whatever Christine was going to say and they all three jump. Squip hadn’t even noticed the hall emptying. “We’d better go,” he blurts, eager to get away from the situation he’s just landed himself in. Jeremy nods.  
“Yeah,” he says. “Bye, Christine!”  
“Goodbye!” She waves and sprints down the hall to her classroom.  
Squip hisses. “Do not tell anyone about this,” he seethes at Jeremy. “Or I swear I will end you.”  
\---  
Squip gracefully flops in his seat fifth period, propping his head up with the heel of his hand. Students file in slowly. Squip closes his eyes and the bright overhead lights shining through his eyelids turn his vision a wash of sunset orange. Eventually, the bell rings, startling him out of his reverie. Mr. Iconis starts roll call.  
It goes by without a hitch. Or would have, but instead...  
“Rolan?”  
Silence fills the room and Squip’s stomach gives an odd clench. Would Jenna really be absent two days in a row? He knew from Christine that she had been sick but apparently she was supposed to be better by now.  
She is marked absent and roll continues, but the more gossip-savvy students begin trading rumors on the whereabouts of Jenna Rolan.  
“I heard she ran away from home.”  
“Well I heard she was in the hospital.”  
I heard she’s been missing since Friday last week. But I heard Jenna was seen buying drugs last night. I heard, I heard, I heard. By the time he stops listening, Squip feels sick. If Jenna really is in trouble, it’s not hard to think about who’s fault it might be.  
His.  
After all, he’s attracted nothing but trouble for his entire time with Jeremy. Squip swallows thickly and takes a deep breath, hoping no matter what that Jenna’s absence has nothing to do with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please comment and leave a kudos!


	19. I'll Trade My Life for Yours (Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hospital towers— no, looms— over Squip and he feels a chill that has little to do with the winter air.  
> “Okay,” Jeremy murmurs. “The guy from the Corporation gave use fake names to use, right?”  
> Squip only nods, unable to speak past the knot of fear in his throat. He draws a deep breath and pushes the door into the hospital open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture this:a small, lone writer's life crumbles at the seams and the writer takes a few days off to recollect. Just a few days. Those days turn to week and those weeks turn to months until this writer turns around and realizes they have drowned in time and forgotten who they were and what their purpose was; to write. This writer tries to crawl out and painstakingly coaxes words from their fingers until they have a small, sloppy chapter done.  
> They are disappointed in themself, but this chapter is all they can make and they hope it satisfies their readers even if only for a small time. 
> 
> That small word vomit about sums up my life the past while and I am so very, inexpressibly sorry for my unaanounced hiatus. Please forgive my failures as a creator.

Squip rushes to lunch and sits down at the end of the table, consciously avoiding Christine’s eyes. However, she taps his shoulder and he is forced to look up. The girl is biting her lip nervously.  
“Well?” She asks. “Was Jenna there in fifth?”  
Squip looks down, shaking his head. Christine sighs heavily, playing with her sleeve. “She hasn’t been returning my calls or texts!”  
Brooke chimes in from a few seats away. “I’m sure it’s okay, Chris,” says the blonde. “Jenna probably just lost her phone charger again.”  
Christine shrugs her agreement, but Squip sees her sending a text under the table.  
Jeremy arrives, breaking Squip’s train of thought, and he sets down a bottle of Mountain Dew in front of Squip, who nods and opens it with practiced ease.  
“Whoa, look at that character development,” Michael snickers.  
Squip levels him with a glare. “What are you talking about?” He asks dryly before taking a sip of Mountain Dew and cringing at the sickly sweet taste.  
“You, being able to open soda bottles now. It’s character development at its finest.”  
“Oh, shut up,” Squip mutters.  
Michael flicks the bottle cap at him and Squip winces at it hits his forehead. “Hey—“ He begins to snap back, but suddenly, he’s cut off by a loud buzzing sound and several ringtones.  
Everyone’s phones are ringing.  
At the same time.  
From the same exact number.  
They share a few glances, before picking up and holding their phones to their ears, with the exception of Squip, who feels his stomach drop out with nervousness. The group all start demanding that the caller identify themselves with varying levels of intensity, before a mechanical, garbled voice comes over the speakers, loud enough for Squip to hear.  
“Put your phones on speaker, this is a message for 577.”  
“Who?”  
“Th-that’s me, it’s my identification number,” Squip says, which is surprising considering his mouth is so dry he can’t swallow. The phones dutifully go on speaker. He takes a deep breath. “What do you want?”  
“You had previously offered a trade,” the garbled voice says. Squip flinches, remembering so vividly his crawling anxiety as he walked to his own death.  
“That deal’s off the table,” he chokes out.  
The distorted voice laughs. “Well, we’re putting it back on,” it says. “After all, you _do want_ Jenna Rolan alive, don’t you?”  
Christine makes a strangled gasp. Squip flicks his eyes around the group and sees their faces are pale, eyes wide, and he thinks with a jolt that Brooke might be crying. A flash of hot anger runs through him. How dare these bastards kidnap Jenna!  
“Everyone but Jeremy is going to hang up,” he says, his voice now steely and venomous. “I want to talk to you personally about the conditions of this deal.”  
“Squip—“ Jeremy says, but Squip cuts him of with a look. He nods, and everyone but Jeremy hangs up. They all bunch into a group and start whispering intently. Jeremy silently hands Squip his phone.  
“Where, when, and with whom?” Squip snaps into the phone.  
“So eager,” the voice laughs. “Have you considered it isn't just you we want?” Squip feels his entire body turn cold. _No_ , he thinks despairingly. _Please, no._ They’re not going to take Jeremy, too. He won’t let them.  
“The trade will be discussed further when Jared Kleinman is released from the hospital.”  
Shocked, Squip hangs up without a word. The world tilts dangerously on it’s axis and he grips the said of the table to steady himself, even though he is sitting.  
“Explain who the hell Jared Kleinman is,” Jeremy demands as soon as the call ends. Squip sighs heavily.  
“Do you remember when you had to leave me at Chloe’s, and then her house got broken into and I went missing for a few hours?” He asks. _And then we fought and I tried to trade my own life for yours_ , he adds mentally.  
Jeremy nods. “Vaguely, yeah.”  
“And remember how I said Jared Kleinman is the only know person to have escaped my fate, and the fate of the other converted teens, because he left before the Corporation entered us the program, and he’s spent the better part of five or so years working to find out what the Corporation did to us and who else could have escaped,” Squip explains, “so he ended up kidnapping me before they could and we got into a car chase which ended with him being dead, or at least I thought so, except now he’s apparently alive which means I need to get to whatever hospital Jared’s in to talk and _oh my God, Jeremy, he’s alive._ ” His explanation turns into a growing string of frantic words as the realization hits Squip that Jared _lived_ , and not only that but now he’s being hunted as well. Squip draws a deep breath, trying to calm his heart. Jeremy takes his shoulders.  
“Hey,” his former host whispers. “Calm down, it’s okay. I know you’re probably having a lot of trouble processing this, we all are too—“  
“Definitely,” someone calls. They sound shaken. Squip can relate.  
“And let’s just try to get through the day, alright? There’s only about two and a half hours left, we’ll be out of here and on our way to talk to this Jared guy before you know it, okay?”  
Jeremy’s gentle rambling, while once annoying, now has a soothing aspect to it. Squip calms down enough to breath even and slow and nods in affirmation.  
“I can do this,” Squip mutters to himself, pushing a lock of stray black hair away from his face. Jeremy smiles.  
“I wouldn’t ask you to if you couldn’t,” Jeremy reassures.  
The table is silent, except for Christine talking worriedly to Brooke and Chloe. Squip heaves a breath out and forces himself to stay calm. Jenna is safe, she has to be. The Corporation can’t risk losing him if they hurt her. For as long as Squip can stall, Jenna Rolan will be alright.  
\---  
Squip leaves school in a daze, barely registering his movements or surroundings until Jeremy pulls up to his house.  
“We’re here,” Jeremy says. “Let’s drop our stuff off and tell Dad that we’re gonna be out for a few hours, and then, well...”  
“Then we work out the trade with Jared,” Squip finishes, his voice hard. “And this ends. Once and for all.” Jeremy looks anxious. He worries his lower lip with his teeth.  
“Squip, I... I don’t want you to do this.” His former host cringes. “Please, there’s gotta be another way than you... walking to your own death a second time.” Squip winces too.  
“I wish there was, Jeremy,” he says, and he means it. “I wish there was.”  
\---  
They call back the Corporation’s number and learn what hospital Jared is in. The Negotiator, as Squip has taken to calling the voice on the other end, gives them two fake names to use to get past the nurses. He also reminds Squip that he and Jared will be closely watched once the older man gets out of the hospital, and if he wants Jenna alive, he’ll do nothing but what he is instructed to do.  
Jeremy parks the car and Squip moves to get out, but Jeremy puts a hand on his arm. “Squip, I’ve got, um, an idea.”  
Squip sighs, but decides that if Jeremy wants to at least pretend he has a shot at getting out of this alive, why not let him. Jeremy takes a deep breath.  
“I’ll need to talk to this Jared dude about it, but what if we could get someone on the inside of the Corporation.”  
Squip pauses, then replies, “Jeremy, that’s insane. Who would they trust enough to even let them into the actual Corporation, because obviously they’ve got a fake business as a cover, much less give them enough power to change this situation?”  
“I don’t know,” Jeremy groans, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s all I’ve got right now.”  
Squip bites his lip and nods. “We can ask Jared,” he says reluctantly. He’s lying. There’s no other way.  
If there was, Squip wonders, would he take it? The thought sends a crash of fear through him. How much of this is heroism and how much is a selfish desire to escape this unfortunate, frustrating situation by the most permanent means possible: death?  
Squip shoves the thoughts away. There will be time to have crisis later, once his fate is sealed. Its always so much easier to regret your choices when there is no going back.  
Jeremy leaves to go talk to his father (Squip opts out of going because if he does it might be the last time he sees the man) and returns a few long minutes later.  
“We’re good to go,” he says. “Unless you want to turn back on this whole thing and—“  
The look he gives Jeremy is enough. There’s not a chance in hell he’s turning back now.  
It’s time to end this.  
\---  
The hospital towers— no, looms— over Squip and he feels a chill that has little to do with the winter air.  
“Okay,” Jeremy murmurs. “The guy from the Corporation gave use fake names to use, right?”  
Squip only nods, unable to speak past the knot of fear in his throat. He draws a deep breath and pushes the door into the hospital open.  
The scent of antiseptic makes some still-covered memory twinge, but Squip ignores it. The front desk is at once a few feet and a hundred miles away. Jeremy’s hand appears on his shoulder and Squip steps forward to break the contact. Now definitely isn’t the time to get attached.  
He says that like he isn’t attached already, but that’s neither here nor there.  
The receptionist smiles at him and Squip gives her a fake one back. “Um, is it visiting hours still?”  
She nods. “Yes, visitings hours don’t end until seven. Are you here to visit a patient?”  
“Ah— yes, we are. Um, Jared. Jared Kleinman.”  
“Are you family? Hospital rules state only family can visit patients with serious injuries.”  
Squip swallows thickly. _Serious injuries_. “Y-yes, we are.” He feeds her the names. They taste bitter as they roll off his tongue.  
The receptionist— her nameplate tells Squip her name is Rose— turns to her computer and begins typing. After a moment, she nods. “Alright, you’re listed here as step-siblings, is that correct?” At Squip’s nod, she continues. “He’s room 413 in the accident ward. That’s the elevator on the left, alright?”  
Squip breathlessly thanks her and tugs on Jeremy’s sleeve to hurry him along. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”  
Once in the elevator, Squip breathes. “I can’t believe that worked.” Jeremy laughs softly.  
“This is crazy.”  
“You’re telling me?” Squip mutters. The elevator reaches the fourth floor with a _ding_ and the doors slide open. There’s another reception desk they have to give their (fake) names to, and after that it’s more waiting.  
“Jeremy,” Squip says. “When I’m... gone, I want you to do something for me?”  
“O-okay...” Jeremy replies tentatively.  
“Find Dominique for me.” Jeremy is silent, his eyes staring straight forward. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nods. Squip breathes a sigh of relief.  
Jeremy opens his mouth to speak, but another voice cuts his off.  
“Jared Kleinman, room 413?”  
Squip jumps to his feet, heart skipping several beats and fluttering against his ribcage. “Y-yes?”  
“He’s awake and ready to see you now,” says a blonde nurse. “Please follow me.” Jeremy’s hand lays on Squip’s shoulder briefly in soft reassurance before the latter steps forward to follow the nurse, who leads them down a long corridor smelling too strongly of antiseptic. Squip counts the rooms leading to 413. The odds are on the right side. 409, 411... 413.  
The nurse holds open the door. “Please be quiet. Patients are sleeping next door, and Mr. Kleinman should not be stressed or upset.” Squip nods, his hands unconsciously wringing and fidgeting to ease the anxiety.  
The door opens.  
Squip is torn between throwing up and screaming.  
Jared isn’t in terrible condition. There is no gore, every gash and bruise covered in thick layers of white bandage, but there are so many tubes and needles and machines all wired to the man on the bed that Squip can feel his skin prickling.  
Jeremy nudges him forward and Squip is forced to step into Jared line of sight. His eyes widen slightly, before a tired smile overtakes his face.  
“There’s no getting rid of you, is there, kid?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for the lateness. Your comments and kudos are, as always, precious to me.


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